Window to the Soul
by leyapearl
Summary: Jeff and Bogg travel to the Perkins School for the Blind in 1886 to convince Anne Sullivan to take up a teaching post to a young Helen Keller, but not everything happens the way it's supposed to.
1. Tuscumbia

Tuscumbia, AL 1889

"Explain to me again why anyone would want to live here?" the teenaged boy complained to his companion. "We've landed in more hospitable jungles. At least they had some shade."

They made an odd pair walking across the fields towards the large, white house surrounded by trees. Phineas Bogg, tall and blond with bright blue eyes, was dressed in his usual clothes – tan breeches tucked into black leather boots, a white shirt, and a brown leather vest. Jeffrey Jones, with black curls and dark eyes, stood just about level with Bogg's chin. A growth spurt right before his sixteenth birthday had necessitated a change in Jeff's wardrobe. While he still wore jeans, the blue polo had been replaced with a collarless white, button-up shirt he felt would blend in better in the many time zones the two visited, and he now wore soft, brown leather shoes instead of sneakers. At the moment, though, the sleeves of the linen shirt were rolled up past his elbows and the dark curls stuck to his forehead in the oppressive humidity.

"There's shade up by the house. Look, trees and everything," Bogg teased. "It's not that bad, kid. Would you rather be back in Siberia?"

"I mean, we've been here for what, five minutes?" Jeff continued as if Bogg hadn't spoken. "And I already need to be wrung out." He paused and looked around. "Where are we anyway? From the looks of things I'm guessing the American south, but when?"

Bogg pulled out the omni and flipped it open. "Tuscumbia, Alabama," he said, shading his eyes to see the dials on the device. "August 17, 1889. Red light." He clicked the omni shut and stowed it away. "Any ideas?"

Jeff wiped the sweat from his forehead. "The location's familiar, but not the date. I can't think why." He stopped and took in a soggy lungful of air. "I don't know, Bogg, the heat must be messing with my brain. Maybe if we actually _get_ to the shade, I'll remember."

"Well, you know what they say," Bogg quipped, "it's not the heat; it's the humidity." He flashed an impudent grin at his partner. "Didn't you have summer in New York City?"

"Not like this," Jeff responded. "We had air conditioning, and, anyway, my dad was a teacher. We left the city every summer and traveled." Jeff's expression closed, and he turned his head away abruptly.

Bogg put a hand on Jeff's shoulder. "Sorry, kid. I didn't mean to remind you."

Jeff shook his head. "No. It's fine," he said through clenched teeth. "Sometimes I forget for a while, and then when it comes back..." His voice trailed off. "It just never really goes away, you know?" He shrugged his shoulders then started walking again. "Well, come on. We may as well figure out what needs to be fixed before I get heat stroke."

"Aye, aye, captain." Bogg grinned again, this time with affection. Jeff had always been a precocious kid. He had been an extremely intelligent and capable eleven-year-old when they had first started traveling together. Now at sixteen, Bogg could see the compassionate and understanding man Jeff would be as an adult. It saddened him to think they only had a little less than a year together before Jeff would enter the academy, but he knew Jeff would enjoy being in school and would excel at his studies. He would miss his kid tremendously but was looking forward to meeting the man he would become.

They walked another few yards when Jeff stumbled. Bogg reached out an arm to catch him so he wouldn't fall. Jeff looked pale and uncomfortable. "You're not really coming down with heat stroke, kid, are you?" He scrutinized Jeff's face. "When's the last time you had something to drink?"

Jeff thought for a moment. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's probably been a while."

As they were almost to the house, Bogg sat Jeff down in the shade of one of the trees, quickly crossed to the back door and knocked several times. A black woman in her forties wearing a red calico dress answered, looking at Bogg with a curious expression in her eyes.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Bogg started.

The woman's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Ma'am?" she interrupted. "There's no ma'am here. I'm just the cook."

Bogg nodded his head in greeting. "Then you're the person I need to talk to. My son's not feeling well," he said, pointing to Jeff. "Could I trouble you for a drink of water? He's not used to the heat, and I think he's dehydrated."

She peered out the door at Jeff, clucked her tongue, and called back over her shoulder. "Martha! Get some water and bring it outside." She turned back to Bogg. "You go back to your boy, sir. My daughter'll get you that water. If he's still poorly once he's drunk it down, you bring him here for me to look at."

Bogg thanked her and turned back towards the tree. As he started walking, a girl of about thirteen came through the door, a stoneware pitcher and two glasses in her hands. He waited for her to catch up to him then offered to carry the pitcher as her arms were full. Her face showed surprise, but she handed it to him with a grateful "Thank you."

After downing almost half the contents of the pitcher, Jeff felt and looked much better. He mumbled an apology to Bogg, who brushed it off with a relieved smile. Then Jeff turned to Martha, who was doing her best not to look him in the face, and said "I appreciate your doing this for me. Thank you. My name's Jeff. What's yours?"

A faint blush appeared through the dark skin on the girl's cheeks, and she cast her eyes at the ground. "Martha," she replied, "and I suppose I best get back before Momma has to come looking for me," she said in a soft voice. "I'm glad you're feeling all right now." She stood gracefully, gently smoothing out her dress before bending down to pick up the pitcher and glasses.

"Wait," Jeff said, reaching for the pitcher, "let me get that for you." As he curled his fingers around the handle, their hands briefly touched. Martha jumped back as if she had caught fire, and her blush intensified. Jeff smiled at her. "You shouldn't have to carry all that by yourself." Her eyes widened, and she nodded.

Bogg chuckled to himself. It was clear that Jeff had no idea the effect he was having on the poor girl. He decided it was time to intervene. "Nice place, this," he said in a loud voice. "Is it yours?"

The question produced the desired outcome. Martha turned and stared at him, incredulity showing plainly on her face. "You're not from here, are you?" she asked. "You think folks like us could own a place like this? No wonder you called Momma 'ma'am.'" She snorted delicately. "No. This place is owned by the Captain."

"Captain...?" Jeff asked, drawing her attention again.

"Um, Keller," she stammered, "Captain Keller."

Bogg cleared his throat. "And is the Captain home now?" he asked.

Martha turned her face back to him. "They went to Europe, the Captain, the Missus, and little Mildred. They've been gone about six months now." She paused, sorrow suddenly darkening her expression. "It was on account of Helen."

"Helen Keller?" Jeff asked. When Bogg threw him a quizzical look, Jeff continued. "Helen Keller lost her sight and hearing when she was really young. Her teacher, Anne Sullivan, taught her to communicate, read, and talk. She was the first blind and deaf person to attend college. She was famous around the world for what she accomplished."

"That's some other Helen, then," Martha said, tears now standing in her eyes. "Our Helen never had any teacher. The Captain brought her to doctors all over, and none of them could help her. One told him to write to some school up north, but nothing ever came of it." Several of the tears slid down her cheek. She tucked both glasses under one arm and dabbed her eyes with her dress sleeve. "Our Helen died last year. A tree fell on her in a big storm. She felt the wind and wanted it on her face. She couldn't see the tree, and she couldn't hear me yell to warn her. I couldn't get there in time." She choked and the tears started falling in earnest. "She was my friend, and I couldn't save her."

Jeff put his arms around Martha and held her while she cried. Then he looked at Bogg. "Well, I guess we know what the red light is."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

They got Martha back to the house. Her mother heard the name 'Helen' and needed no more explanation for her daughter's distress. She thanked Bogg and Jeff for their care of Martha and invited them to stay for dinner. When evening fell, they declined her offer a bed for the night and went back outside. While the humidity hadn't abated, the cooler evening air felt good on their faces and smelled strongly of the roses outside the house.

"Okay, kid," Bogg said. "Where do we need to go?"

Jeff thought for a moment. "I did a report on Helen Keller when I was in grammar school," he said. "Anne Sullivan was a student at the Perkins School for the Blind near Boston. Captain Keller wrote to the school in..." he frowned in concentration, "in the summer of 1886. So I guess if we aim for May or June of 1886, we can find out why she didn't go and convince her otherwise."

Bogg nodded. "That sounds about right," he agreed, then he smiled. "Too bad when we come back Martha won't remember you."

Jeff looked at him. "What do you mean too bad?" he asked, puzzled. "Once we get Anne Sullivan here, it'll be a different time zone. Of course she won't remember me."

Bogg sighed. "That's not exactly what I meant, kid. This is a part of your education I need to work on before you go to the Academy." He pulled out the omni and set it for their destination.

"You do realize I have no idea what you're talking about, right?" Jeff said, putting his hand on Bogg's arm.

"That's why I need to work on it." Bogg grinned at him. "Let's get this fixed," he said. "I can explain later." He activated the omni, and they disappeared from the landscape.


	2. Hwacheon

Hwacheon, South Korea 1953

They landed hard in a desolate landscape of dirt-covered hills and scraggly trees. Jeff rolled down the sleeves of his shirt in the frigid air as he scrambled to his feet. "I take back what I said about Tuscumbia. Heat's not _that_ bad." His breath formed clouds as he spoke. "Where are we?"

Bogg sat up, putting one hand to his back as he grabbed the omni with the other. "Bat's breath. That hurt," he muttered. He lifted his head and looked around. "Well, it's not Boston."

Jeff snorted. "No, really?" He shivered and started rubbing his hands together to warm them. "Just tell me it's a green light."

"Sorry, kid," Bogg responded as he peered at the device. Jeff groaned, his teeth starting to chatter. "Hwacheon, South Korea. January 8, 1953," Bogg continued. "Any ideas?"

Jeff shook his head, his eyes wide. "The Korean War, but nothing jumps out at me."

Bogg looked over his shoulder as he stashed the omni away. "Another war zone? Let's hope nothing _does_ jump out at us." With a jerk of his head he indicated a path to their left. "Come on. Let's see what we find." They walked for a while in silence, then he turned to Jeff, a speculative look in his eyes. "So, Martha was pretty."

"What?" Jeff's expression showed his surprise at the sudden shift in topic. "I guess. I didn't really notice."

"She sure noticed you. She couldn't take her eyes off you," Bogg pointed out. "I might as well not even been there." Despite the cold, Bogg could see Jeff's cheeks turn a faint red. "If we'd stayed you could have taken her for a walk in the rose garden, held her hand, maybe stolen a kiss or two..." He broke off, his memory suddenly filled with the faces of various beautiful women in rose gardens from his own past.

Jeff rolled his eyes. "Earth to Bogg. Red light, remember?"

Bogg forced himself back the present then turned to his partner, honestly curious. "Come on, kid, do you mean to tell me the thought never even crossed your mind?"

"No, it didn't." Jeff's face was flaming now. "Can we just focus on the red light?"

"Not even one kiss? How about a hug? Holding her hand?" Bogg asked, his voice rising with each question, his tone incredulous.

"That's you, Casanova, not me." Jeff dropped his gaze to the ground.

Bogg exhaled sharply, his breath steaming in the chilly air. "I don't get it. Not that long ago you were complaining we hardly ever meet anyone your age. Now we find a girl – and a pretty one at that – and you don't even try to get to know her."

"I _did_ get to know her. Just not in the way _you_ mean." Jeff stopped and turned his head to the side, studiously avoiding Bogg's eyes, the blush now extending to his ears. "Look,someday I'd like to meet someone special. Just because I don't feel the need to mess around with some girl's feelings doesn't mean..." He swallowed. "Never mind. Could we end this conversation now?" he pleaded, his voice strained. "Please?"

"Hey! I don't mess around with anyone's feelings. They're all special," Bogg protested. "And you should consider..." The rest of Bogg's statement was cut off by the sound of uncontrolled coughing coming from up ahead. "Heads up, kid. Sounds like we've found our problem." He took off up the path to see what was wrong. Jeff sighed in relief and ran after him.

As they turned a corner, they saw a soldier bent over, hands on his thighs, coughing and gasping for breath. Jeff's brow furrowed. "It sounds like he's got asthma. We need to get him out of the cold."

Bogg nodded in agreement. A quick glance at insignia on the man's coat sleeve told him what he needed. "Lieutenant?" The man was in his early forties. He had a strong, lean face with dark, heavy brows, sharp features, and black eyes wide with surprise. It was obvious he had believed he was alone. "Is your base back that way?" Bogg pointed behind the soldier, who nodded after trying unsuccessfully to speak. "We'll escort you back. It's too cold out here for someone with a cough like that." The man nodded again, still bowed over and gasping. Bogg put an arm around his shoulders and gently propelled him forward. Jeff moved closer to the soldier's other side to provide additional warmth as well as extra support if needed.

After walking a slow several hundred yards the camp came within view. Jeff took one look at the large Red Cross symbol covering one of the tents and exclaimed, "It's a MASH unit!" At Bogg's quizzical look, he clarified, "A mobile Army surgical hospital. They played an important part in the war. My dad told me about them."

"Father... a... vet?" the soldier managed to ask. Jeff shook his head. The soldier looked puzzled but his attention soon turned to a tent on the edge of the encampment. "There," he mouthed. They guided him through the tent flap, pulled a cot near the stove that acted as the tent's heating source, and sat him down. Jeff wrinkled his nose at the smell of fuel oil pervading the tent and got a smile from the soldier. "That's why I went for a walk," he said, the cough subsiding and his voice getting stronger as the warmer air reached his lungs. After a few minutes, his breathing grew more regular. He stood and held out a hand to Bogg. "I need to thank you. That probably wasn't one of my better ideas."

Bogg smiled and shook his head. "I'm just glad we were nearby, Lieutenant..."

"Williams. Theodore Williams, Second Lieutenant, US Marine pilot." He looked from Bogg to Jeff and back again. "You fellas with the USO? I hadn't heard there was a show coming through."

"We got a bit off track," Bogg answered then introduced himself and Jeff. "So what's a pilot doing in a hospital unit?"

Williams patted his chest. "I've got this cold that won't go away. My C.O. wanted the docs to take a look at my lungs, so he sent me to the 8076th to get checked out."

Jeff's eyes widened as something in the soldier's face clicked in his memory. "Wait. You're Ted Williams. _The_ Ted Williams. The Splendid Splinter." His expression grew awed, almost reverent. Bogg nudged his shoulder, and Jeff turned toward him without moving his gaze from Williams' face. "One of the greatest hitters ever. He plays for the Red Sox."

"Well, so did I," Bogg muttered to himself, suddenly feeling like a third wheel.

Williams chuckled. "You a Boston fan, son?"

"Born and bred in Yankee territory, sir," Jeff answered, shaking his head and smiling, "but it doesn't mean I can't appreciate an artist."

This time the soldier laughed. "Good answer, son. My friend Dom's brother plays for the Yankees." His eyes twinkled with amusement. "Doesn't mean we don't enjoy beating them."

Jeff's eyes grew even bigger. "Dom. Dominic DiMaggio?" He gulped. "You're talking about Joe DiMaggio."

Bogg sighed as the baseball talk started. Despite his short career as a pitcher, and all of Jeff's explanations, he still didn't really understand the game. He enjoyed it because it was something Jeff loved, but he knew the conversation would quickly move beyond his ability to follow it. He sat on the ground in front of the stove and drew out the omni, deciding that while the others were occupied, this might be a good time to perform some small maintenance tasks. If he was lucky, he could get it out of automatic mode – again – so they could continue on to Boston. _At least once we figure out the solution to this red light_, he thought. Bogg had hoped the green light would be triggered once they had gotten Lieutenant Williams to the tent, but when he opened the omni, not only was the light still red, it had stopped blinking and was now a steady red. Something else had frozen. "That's it," he said under his breath. "After this voyage, you're going back to HQ for an overhaul."

Somewhere in the background he heard a popping noise, a sound he was sure he had heard somewhere before but couldn't place. He glanced over at Williams and Jeff. They were still engrossed in conversation about players Bogg had never heard of and didn't look as if they had heard anything out of the ordinary. The second time it came, he dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. The third time it was louder and drew his attention away from the omni. "What _was_ that?" he murmured. It was coming from the floor somewhere in front of him and sounded like a pop gun. But that was ridiculous. This was an army base with real guns. Real, loud guns. He peered at the floor as it sounded again and this time saw a spark from under the stove. His mind flew back to his past, to the time he had spent on ships and the damage caused when soot built up in cannons. "Jeff! Hit the deck. Now!" From the corner of his eye he saw Jeff fall to the floor, pulling Williams down with him. He sighed and tried to turn his head, but it was too late.

The built-up soot under the stove exploded.

There was pain and darkness, smoke and screaming. A small part of Bogg's mind realized he was the one screaming, but he couldn't stop. "Bogg? Bogg!" Jeffrey's voice. Jeff was safe. Bogg breathed out a sigh, relief cutting off the screams and making him go limp. He felt a hand on the side of his neck. "He's breathing. There's a pulse. I'll get a doctor." Williams' feet thudded on the dirt floor. The pain was getting worse, the darkness more profound. The alert part of Bogg's mind heard the 'ding' as the omni turned from red to green. He could hear Jeff calling his name, pleading with him to open his eyes, could feel Jeff squeezing his hand and tried to respond in kind. The pain strengthened, and the darkness pressed down harder on his consciousness. He struggled to talk, to tell Jeff it was going to be all right, but it hurt too much; he couldn't form the words. He let the darkness take him.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Jeff! Hit the deck. Now!"

Jeff knew not to argue with or question that tone. He grabbed Williams' arm and pulled him face down on the floor just as the explosion roared. As the air cleared, he looked up, amazed that he and Williams were unhurt and the tent was still standing. He had expected it had been demolished by a bomb. "What happened?" he asked. Williams squinted through the smoke that was making him cough and wheeze again, then shrugged his shoulders as he worked to clear his lungs. Jeff waved some of the smoke away. "Bogg? Bogg!" Screams of pain coming from the floor stopped abruptly.

Bogg was lying on his back on the floor by the now burned and darkened stove, eyes closed, soot blackening his face, right arm bent at the elbow and right hand still clutching the omni. His left arm crossed his body as if he had been trying to protect himself from the explosion.

Jeff couldn't move. He felt sick and dizzy like he was about to throw up. His mind shifted back to one of his early voyages with Bogg. Locked in prison at the Salem Witch trials, he had asked Bogg if Voyagers could die. "We're regular flesh and blood, kid." Bogg's response had been. "Only thing that makes us special is that omni." The answer had scared him, but that time they made it out unhurt and alive. Now he was frozen in place, his eyes locked on Bogg's body, his breath coming in short gasps.

Williams pushed past him and laid a hand on the side of Bogg's throat. "He's breathing. There's a pulse. I'll get a doctor." He raced out of the tent as if trying to beat a throw to home plate for a game-winning run.

Jeff's muscles finally unlocked. He lurched forward, dropped to his knees, and squeezed Bogg's left hand. "Bogg? Open your eyes. Please be all right." Tears streamed from his eyes. "Don't die. _Please._" He thought he felt a slight pressure from the hand he held, then it went limp in his grasp. Jeff closed his eyes. "No," he said brokenly. "No. You have to be all right!" There was a small 'click' as the omni rolled from Bogg's hand to the floor.

Moments later Williams and three other soldiers rushed through the tent flap. Jeff could feel Williams gently tugging at his arm and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and brought over to another cot. Two of the soldiers – medics, he realized – placed Bogg on a stretcher while the third looked at Bogg's face, pulled out a stethoscope, and listened to his heart – a doctor. After a cursory exam, the doctor nodded, and the medics carried Bogg out.

"I have to go with him." Jeff wobbled as he stood. "I have to be there."

Williams shook his head. "You have to let the doc do his job, son. They won't let you in there while they're taking care of him." He coughed a few times. "Let's go find something to eat while we wait." Williams looked down at the floor, then knelt and scooped the omni into his hands. "This is his?" Jeff nodded mutely, unable to speak. "Then you take care of it until you can give it back."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

They were sitting in the mess tent when a nurse approached them. Williams was drinking coffee and telling Jeff baseball anecdotes. Jeff sat listlessly, an untouched tray of food in front of him, the omni clutched in his left hand; he hadn't put it down since Williams gave it to him. The nurse bent over and spoke softly to Williams. Jeff could make out the words 'recovery' and 'consciousness' but nothing else. Williams turned to Jeff. "She's going to take you to him. He's starting to wake up, and he's asking for you."

Relief washed over Jeff like a rainstorm. "Thank you," he said to the ball player. "I couldn't do anything, and you..."

"I should be the one thanking you," Williams said. "If you hadn't pulled me down, my flying days would be over. And possibly my ball playing days as well." He stood. "Once we're all home, you come to Fenway and see me. I'll make sure you two get star treatment." He raised his eyebrows then added, "Even though you root for the wrong team."

The nurse brought Jeff to the recovery tent and introduced him to the doctor he had seen earlier. "Quite a temper on that father of yours," the doctor said. At Jeff's surprised expression, he continued. "He started to come to as we were getting him in the exam room. He got... agitated... when we told him he couldn't see you while we were treating him. Didn't believe me when I told him you were uninjured. Kept shouting 'no one's keeping me from my kid.'" He rubbed the back of his neck. "We had to sedate him so we could finish working on him without hurting him."

"He's all right, though, isn't he?" Jeff tried to keep his voice level, his hand tightening on the omni.

The doctor looked Jeff straight in the eyes. "We think so."

"What?"

"I'll be straight with you, kid. The soot hit him square in the face," he said, then sighed. "He's got some burns on his forehead and his eyelids. We cleaned him up and got medicine on his face for the burns, but..."

Jeff waited for him to continue. "But, what?"

"His vision might be affected." Jeff froze in place, stunned. "We don't know if he closed his eyes quickly enough, and we can't check his eyes until the skin around them heals. If there's any damage, we could make it worse poking around."

"You mean he might be... blind?" Jeff heard his voice waver. How could Bogg do his job if he couldn't see?

"We won't know until we can take the bandages off, son," the doctor explained gently. "It could be a few days, or a few weeks, until we know for sure. We're going to arrange transport for you two back to Seoul, so you can get back to the States. There are doctors there who can do more than I can in a war zone."

"Does he know?"

The doctor shook his head. "He was just starting to regain consciousness when we sent Nurse Jackson after you. Given his reaction before, I thought it better to get you to him as soon as he was awake and then tell him."

Jeff clenched his teeth together and nodded. "Can I see him now?"

The doctor put an arm around Jeff's shoulder and led him into the recovery ward.


	3. 8076th

Sounds permeated Bogg's consciousness. Hospital noises – respirators, IV drips, beeping monitors, conversations held in hushed tones. He could smell antiseptic, bleached sheets, bed pans, and smoke. A rough woolen blanket snagged the burned fingertips of his left hand. His right hand groped for the omni as he turned his head, listening for Jeff's voice. It was unusual for the kid to be quiet for so long. How long had it been, and why was he the one lying down if Jeff was in the hospital? They had been in Williams' tent, then... With a gasp he remembered the explosion and the subsequent needle in his arm as he was being treated and realized Jeff wasn't with him. "Jeff?" he murmured. "Kid?"

He tried to open his eyes and realized with surprise he couldn't. Something was covering part of his face. He lifted a shaky hand to move whatever it was blocking his eyes so he could look around for Jeff. His fingers scraped against gauze and bandages. As he tried to move them a man's strong hand grabbed his wrist and held it immobile. "Sorry, sir, but those need to stay where they are."

Bogg turned his face towards the voice. "Where's my kid? Is he all right?"

A deep chuckle sounded. "I had a bet with Doc Harris that would be your first question. You've been muttering the kid's name for the last ten minutes. I have no idea how Doc thought he'd win." There was a pause. "Your son's fine," the gruff voice continued. "He's in the mess tent. Doc's gone to get him." Another pause. "That's them now." Bogg heard a creaking door swing open then two sets of approaching footsteps, one steady and measured, the other impatient and barely restrained. The man let go of his wrist, and Bogg felt the air move slightly as he walked away.

"Bogg, how do you feel? Are you okay?" Jeff's voice sounded tense and Bogg could hear concern flooding through each word. The cot sagged on one side as Jeff sat down and something cold was pushed into Bogg's hand. "I kept this safe for you."

"Thanks." Bogg's fingers brushed the edges of the object – the omni; he could tell by its shape – then held it back out in the direction Jeff's voice had come from. "Why don't you hold onto it a little longer. I don't want to lose it, and until these bandages come off I..." He heard a sharp intake of breath and turned his face towards the noise. "Kid? What aren't you telling me? Are you hurt?"

Another voice came from over Jeff's head. "I'm Dr. Harris." _The second set of footsteps_, Bogg thought. "Your son is fine, sir. Your quick actions saved him from injury. The lieutenant, as well. They're both uninjured."

"But I'm not." It wasn't a question. Bogg held his breath waiting for a response, figuring the longer it took the man to respond, the worse the answer would be. "Doc?"

"We're not sure," the doctor finally said. He had a faint Southern accent that drew out the vowels in his words. "You've sustained some fairly serious burns to your face." A beat. "There's a possibility that some of the ashes may have gotten in your eyes. We can't examine them until the burns start to heal. If we do, we might inadvertently cause more damage."

Bogg reached up with his uninjured hand to feel the bandages. The gauze over his eyes was soft under his fingers. It stuck out slightly from under the cotton and linen bandages wrapped around his head. The bandages had a rougher texture, still soft but more fibrous. "That's why it's so dark," he said to himself. Bogg hadn't experienced so complete a darkness since his pirate days. After one particularly spectacular display of insubordination, he had been whipped to near-unconsciousness then locked in the hold for two days with no food. Badly injured and barely able to move he had lain in a darkness that had been nearly as profound as this was, except for the small slivers of sunlight that broke through the weather-beaten walls during the day. _No such luck this time_, he thought. _No cracks in this hold_.

Dr. Harris' voice broke into his thoughts. "We had to tape your eyes closed to keep any foreign particles from getting in, to protect the corneas from being scratched. Our plan is to..." Bogg didn't hear the rest. The words washed over him as the implications of his situation hit home. His eyes were taped shut; he couldn't see. Without his vision, he couldn't do his job. He couldn't read the omni. He couldn't protect Jeffrey. He was a liability, a hindrance.

"I need to talk to Jeff," he blurted out. "Alone."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Jeff held his breath as the doctor talked, explaining to Bogg the extent of his injuries. He stared at the bandages covering Bogg's face, swallowing hard to force down the lump that kept rising in his throat, concentrating on the fact that Bogg was alive. An image of Bogg lying unmoving on the floor of the tent – the omni falling out of his hand – came unbidden into his mind, and he shook it away. He heard Bogg murmur, "That's why it's so dark," and watched as the doctor nodded then twisted his mouth into a hard smile, as he remembered Bogg couldn't see the gesture. Jeff gritted his teeth and made himself focus on the doctor's voice detailing the plans to evacuate them to Seoul.

"I need to talk to Jeff. Alone."

The abruptness in Bogg's voice as it cut across Dr. Harris' words made Jeff jump. The doctor squeezed his shoulder then walked away from the bed. Jeff watched him cross the ward to another patient's bed and pick up the chart hanging from the bed frame. The doctor's eyes flickered between them and the chart, watching Bogg intently for a moment before turning all his attention to the soldier in the bed before him.

"Is he gone?" Jeff turned back to face his partner. Bogg's voice was a taut wire, his jaw clenched so tightly Jeff was surprised he could talk at all.

"Yes. He's with someone else now," Jeff responded. Tension and fear radiated from Bogg's body, and Jeff could plainly read his partner's feelings. It was as if the injury to his eyes had pulled down the facade of unflappability Bogg generally wore, that because he couldn't see the emotions of those around him, he was unable to mask his own, and what Jeff now saw frightened him. Then it made him angry. Instinctively, he knew what Bogg was thinking, and he wasn't going to let his partner speak the words. "No. I'm not leaving you here," he snarled. He swallowed again, winced at the harshness in his voice, and tried to soften his tone. "We don't separate; it's too dangerous. You told me the same thing in Clarion when I... I'm not leaving you in a war zone." _Not like this_, he thought.

"Kid, it's not safe to bring..."

"Darn right, it's not safe," Jeff snapped. "MASH units are mobile, Bogg; they _move_. They even get shelled occasionally. I might never find you again, and I'm not willing to take that chance." His breath came faster, and his voice rose with each word.

"Jeff, if I'm bli..." Bogg choked on the words. "If I can't see, I can't do my job."

"Then we'll try for headquarters." Jeff hands clenched reflexively into fists as he worked to keep his voice level. "We'll get you to Voyager Medical and have them check you out. While we're there we can have someone look at the omni. It's been acting up a lot more lately."

Bogg shook his head. "I still think..."

"_No._ You listen to me, you old pirate." Jeff jumped to his feet. "You didn't leave when I had rabies, or when I was captured in the desert, or when I ended up on the wrong end of Blackbeard's sword. _I'm not leaving you._ We stay together. End of discussion."

Bogg sat silent for a moment, his lips drawn together, his head turned away. For a moment, Jeff worried he might have gone too far, then Bogg turned back towards him, a trace of a smile lightening the tension on the exposed part of his face. "Have you always been this stubborn?"

Jeff's hands relaxed, leaving small crescent marks where his nails had dug into his palms. "You can't just be noticing now," he said. "Haven't you been paying attention for the last five years?"

Bogg barked out a short, bitter laugh. "Okay, smart kid, HQ it is." He eased his shoulders back on to the pillow. "So, any nurses I should be paying attention to? You're going to have to be my eyes while we're here." His tone was lighter, but the tightness in his jaw remained betraying his discomfort. His head hit the pillow with the a quiet thump.

Jeff sat back down on the edge of the cot. "I haven't seen any blondes yet," he said, trying to match Bogg's tone. "Why don't you rest, and I'll let you know when I see... when one comes by you might be interested in, okay? It's been a tough day, and we should probably wait a bit before we omni out." Bogg nodded, and Jeff watched as his partner's muscles gradually relaxed. After a few minutes Bogg's breathing deepened, the stress of the day and his injuries pulling him down into sleep.

For a while Jeff just sat there, chin resting on his right hand, staring into space and thinking. He pulled the omni out of his left pocket and started absently polishing the side of the device against his jeans, praying that _this_ time it would work the way it was supposed to. Otherwise, he wasn't sure what he would do. Voyaging was dangerous. Both of them had been hurt – almost killed – many times; Jeff had lost track of the number of times they had been blown up or shot at or captured in the time they'd been together, and he was sure Bogg had been involved in many more close calls when he had voyaged alone. Field work wasn't a job a blind person could safely do. There were too many hazards a Voyager could literally drop right into. With Bogg's experience he could teach at the academy, but Jeff had a hard time imagining Bogg being content in a classroom lecturing others on how to do the job he loved. _You're letting your imagination get too far ahead of you, Jones_, he thought. _We don't know what's going to happen._

"Are you all right, son?" The voice startled Jeff from his thoughts. Dr. Harris had worked his way down the row of patients back over to Bogg's bed. Jeff shrugged. "You're worried about him; I can tell." The doctor gently picked up Bogg's hand and checked his pulse. "It's likely your father will be just fine, Jeff, but I'm not doing my job properly if I don't let my patients know the possible outcomes of their injuries. If those bandages come off too soon..."

Jeff nodded. "I know. I'll make sure they stay put. I'm just not used to being the one doing the caretaking. He's always been the one taking care of me. I'm not sure how he's going to deal with it." He swallowed. "I'm not sure how _I'm_ going to deal with it."

"You'll do fine," the doctor said. "Just be patient with him. Even if this is temporary, it's not going to be easy for him." He made some notes on Bogg's chart. "We should be able to get you out of here in a few hours. Our CO needs some supplies from Seoul anyway, so we'll find someone who can drive you there then pick them up for us. We're just trying to find a vehicle that will carry the three of you that we're sure will make it that far."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The vehicle ended up not being a problem. Less than an hour later alarms echoed throughout the camp, and the PA system called all medical personnel to report to surgery. Within minutes Jeff heard the whirring rotors of helicopters flying in and out delivering wounded to the MASH unit. Ambulances sped by the hospital tent, and footsteps pounded as injured soldiers were carried to the triage area, doctors and nurses shouting instructions to the medics. The noise woke Bogg who clutched at the sleeve of Jeff's shirt. "Now," he said. "There's enough confusion. They'll assume we hopped a ride with one of the outgoing drivers or pilots."

Jeff set the omni for Headquarters, grabbed Bogg's arm, crossed his fingers, and pushed the button. They blinked out of the hospital tent leaving the bed empty, Bogg's chart swaying slightly on the bed's frame.


	4. Boston

Boston, MA 1886

The omni didn't work the way it was supposed to.

The Voyage through the cosmos was disjointed, not smooth as it usually was. Several times Jeff felt like they were being pulled in several directions at once, almost as though something was forcing them against a rising tide. When the familiar falling sensation finally manifested, he was relieved. Right up until they landed on the footbridge in the middle of a city. The bridge overlooked a pond dotted with pedal-powered boats dominated by replicas of large swans. Large grassy areas were situated on either side of the pond with benches and gardens visible from where they sat. Jeff looked around at the boats, the buildings, and the skyline, eyes widening in recognition, and sighed unhappily.

"This isn't headquarters." Bogg's head turned from side to side as he listened to the noises of the city. Horses neighed, their distant hooves echoing on cobblestone streets. Ducks splashed in the water below them, quacking as they chased each other while searching for food. Women walked by them, their long skirts swishing gently in the late summer breeze. Children laughed and talked in loud cheerful voices.

"No," Jeff responded, his voice clipped and annoyed. "Boston Common. We landed by the swan boats. My folks brought me here. Lots of history in Boston." He flipped the omni open to read the date. "September 12, 1886. Red light." He shook his head, disbelief flooding his features. "It ignored the headquarters request and sent us back to the last requested time zone, give or take. It overshot by a couple of months." He shaded the dials with one hand, then brought the device up to his ear. "That's strange. It's not blinking."

"It did that in Hwacheon, too." Bogg's voice sounded subdued. He reached out a hand. "Here, give it to me. I'll try field stripping it."

Jeff hesitated before answering, and Bogg could sense the teen's discomfort. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea." Jeff's voice had a tentative quality to it that Bogg wasn't used to hearing, as if he was searching for the right words to say so he wouldn't hurt Bogg's feelings. "We should find somewhere less public – like the Boston Public Library – and you can walk me through it. It would be good practice for me, and that way we don't have to worry about losing any of the pieces in the grass here."

_Walk him through it?_ Bogg sat stunned, a sudden anger boiling in his veins as the words sunk in. Jeff didn't trust him with the omni. _His_ omni. "I've done this in the dark before, kid," he snarled. "Remember Maui?" His hand remained out, palm open, insistent and waiting. "We need to get to HQ, and the sooner _I _get this done, the better."

Jeff flinched. He wasn't used to hearing this tone from his partner. "Bogg, it's not your eyes," he explained gently. "The fingertips on your left hand got burned pretty bad. Your right hand's all right, but I don't think..."

"I did this alone for a long time before you came along, Jeffrey." Bogg interrupted, moving his hand closer to where Jeff's voice was coming from. "I _know _what I'm doing. Give me the omni. _Now_."

A loud splashing noise cut off any reply Jeff was about to make, followed quickly by a boy's terrified yells. As the splashing sounds grew more frantic, a young woman's voice echoed off the bottom of the bridge. "Charley? Charley!"

"Bogg, that kid needs help! I'll be right back." A breeze moved by Bogg's face, and he heard loud footfalls as Jeff tore off in the direction of the tumult.

"Jeffrey? What's happening?" Bogg stood unsteadily, his hands stretched out in front of his body searching for something to guide him. He briefly touched the bridge's railing then turned to the right where he could hear the most commotion. He started sliding his feet over the cobblestones trying to follow the sound of Jeff's disappearing footsteps but quickly grew impatient at how long this took. Instead, he stretched his arms out in front of him again and tried to walk at a normal pace.

As he lifted his right foot, a wave of dizziness hit him like a ton of bricks, disorienting him, and forcing him to his knees, hands splayed in front of him. He stayed like that for a long moment trying to regain his equilibrium, then slowly turned, one hand swinging around behind him, feeling for the railing he knew should be close by. Finally, his fingers scraped something, and he pulled himself towards the solid support, breathing hard as he leaned back against it, his mind racing. With cold certainty, he realized he couldn't get off the bridge unassisted. He had no way to know if anyone was standing in front of him, and without knowing where to put his feet a wrong step could send him flying off the bridge and into the water.

He heard Jeff's voice coming from somewhere below, calming and soothing the boy, and a coldness crept into his chest as he realized he hadn't been able to do anything to help. If Jeff hadn't been there, the boy could have drowned. Bogg had never felt so useless before in his life. What if it had been Jeff who needed saving?_ I couldn't have done anything._ The thought smashed its way into his brain, terrifying him, forcing him to consider things he had tried to avoid thinking about at the MASH unit. _What if my eyes _were _damaged? What if I'm... _He had to make himself think the word. _What if I'm... blind?_ His thoughts spiraled downward as he considered the ramifications of his plight. If he couldn't help Jeffrey, if he could only sit by helpless while others did his job for him, then... what good was he? As this new thought slapped him in the face, one that hurt even more immediately followed. Maybe, just maybe – until he knew for sure if his sight would return – Jeff would be better off without him.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

At the first terror-filled wail, Jeff jumped to his feet, eyes searching the water below._ Under the bridge_, he thought, the words tripping over themselves in his mind. _He's under the bridge_. He yelled something to Bogg then ran to the grass sloping down to the pond. He could hear Bogg ask some questions but couldn't lose any time trying to answer them. A girl's voice called to the boy in the water, but no one on the boat moved to help the child. Jeff didn't have time to wonder why; the boy was half-submerged, his arms and legs splashing a small geyser in the pond. The water wasn't deep and within seconds, Jeff had grabbed the boy, wrapped his arms around the child's chest, and lifted his head above the water. He pulled the struggling boy out of the pond, trying to calm him down. "Charley, you're out of the water. It's okay. You're safe. I've got you."

The boy clung to Jeffrey, gasping for breath, his arms and legs gradually stopping their flailing. He was slight with close-cropped blond hair, brown plaid knickers, and a tan shirt – all of which were now soaking wet – and couldn't have been more than eleven years old. Jeff had a sudden memory of himself at eleven, Bogg's arms wrapped around him the same way he now held Charley, protecting him from oncoming danger. As Charley's breathing and heartbeat slowed, he turned his head towards Jeff. Something in the way the boy turned his head nagged at the back of Jeff's mind but he was too exhausted to stop and try to figure out why.

"Who are you?" Charley asked, coughing out the words. "You saved me."

Heavy footsteps pulled Jeff's attention away from the boy. "Charley!" A well-dressed man in his early forties, his face and voice full of concern, knelt down beside them. He pulled Charley from Jeff's arms and wrapped the boy in an elegant black frock coat, much too large for the boy's small frame. "Are you hurt? What happened?" Another man followed on his heels.

"I'm all right, Mr. Anagnos," Charley replied. "I lost my balance on the boat." He hung his head and lowered his voice. "I was trying to tie Annabelle's hair ribbon to the back of the bench, and I fell off." He put a hand back out toward Jeff, touching his palm to Jeff's chest. "This man saved me."

"It was nothing," Jeff said, gently rubbing Charley's back. "I'm glad I was close enough to help."

"You have my thanks, Mr..."

"Jones. I'm not a mister, though, just Jeffrey." He pushed the wet hair away from his eyes and smiled at the man.

"Jeffrey, then," the man said. "I'm sure Charley's parents would thank you as well if they were here."

Parents. Jeff looked up at the bridge, turning pale as guilt washed over him. "Bogg," he murmured. He'd left Bogg alone. How long had he been gone? "I'm sorry, I have to go," he said standing and shaking off some of the water. As he sprinted up the knoll, he called over his shoulder, "Charley, stay in your seat from now on. I may not be around to fish you out of the pond next time."

As Jeff approached the bridge, he saw Bogg sitting there as still as a statue, head bent down under the weight of his thoughts and lips pressed together in a hard line, and immediately knew something was wrong. He slowed his approach, trying to get his breathing under control. And – if he wanted to be honest with himself – to calm his emotions. The bandages stood out sharply on Bogg's face, contrasting with his summer-bronzed skin and the red burn marks on his cheeks and forehead. Jeff could feel the lump forming in his throat again and swallowed convulsively so he could talk without his voice betraying how upset he felt.

The hand on his shoulder startled him. It was the man from the pond. "Your father?" he asked quietly, his dark eyes full of compassion. Jeff nodded, not trusting his ability to speak at that exact moment. "My students can become confused in unfamiliar locations, but I see now you understand how it can be for them."

"I'm sorry, Mr. – I didn't catch your name – I don't know what you mean."

The man tilted his head to the side, confused. "Michael Anagnos." He moved his hand in front of his eyes miming bandages. "Is this a recent affliction?"

Jeff nodded again. "Yesterday," he explained. "A stove exploded in his face. He managed to warn me, but..."

"Jeff? Is that you?" Bogg's voice sounded subdued.

Jeff crossed over to his partner and dropped to his knees. "Bogg. I'm sorry I was gone so long." He put a hand on Bogg's shoulder but got no response other than a slight shrug.

"The kid okay?" He seemed to ask the question because it was expected, but his tone didn't indicate any interest in the answer, and his voice was so soft Jeff had to lean in to catch the words.

Jeff recoiled. This was a Bogg he had never encountered before. An angry or upset Bogg? Sure; often these emotions were aimed at Jeff himself. Determined? Stubborn? These were words frequently used to describe his partner by other Voyagers, most often by Olivia or Councilor Garth. He'd seen Bogg choked with grief, glowing with pride, and noble in self-sacrifice. The Bogg sitting in front of him now was none of these things; this Bogg was depressed and defeated. Jeff swallowed, frightened by the unfamiliarity of the situation. "Yeah," he reported. "He's fine." A light breeze came up, making him shiver in his wet clothes. He put his hand back on his partner's shoulder, needing the slight physical contact and hoping it would provide Bogg with some comfort as well. "We'll get this fixed Bogg. I promise." Bogg shrugged again, turning his face away. Jeff's heart sank. _But how? _he wondered. _How can I fix this?_

"Excuse me." A shadow moved across them, and Jeff started. He had momentarily forgotten the man's presence and the unexpected words made him jump. "Sir, I wanted to let you know how grateful I am to your son for saving my student, and to inquire if I could assist you in getting home. Jeffrey needs to get into some dry clothes."

Bogg didn't answer. Jeff wasn't even sure he heard the man's words; his partner's mind seemed a million miles away. He turned quickly to cover for Bogg's inattention.

"Actually, sir, we just got into town and haven't had a chance to..." Jeff said, then something the man said earlier sparked his memory. "Wait. Anagnos." His eyes widened. "You're the director of the Perkins School for the Blind." That was why the way Charley had turned his head was so familiar. Bogg made the identical motion each time someone spoke to him now, turning his ear towards the speaker rather than his eyes.

Anagnos smiled. "You've heard of my school," he said, obviously pleased. "Yes, each year we take the students for a ride on the swan boats the last weekend of the season." The expression on his face turned rueful. "Of course, they don't usually decide to go for an unplanned swim. I think I'll need to encourage Charley to apologize to his fellow students. And to the teachers. And the boat workers, now that I think of it. He gave us all quite a scare. Possibly an additional lecture on his plan to tie Annabelle's hair ribbons to the bench will be in order as well." His expression grew thoughtful. "Jeffrey, may I offer you and your father a room at the school for a few days until you get settled? It would be a way for me to repay you for keeping Charley safe and sound. I also have a working acquaintance with several of the doctors at Boston Eye and Ear. Perhaps one of them could help your father."

Jeff looked from Bogg to Anagnos. He could feel the omni weighing down his pocket. Bogg's injury notwithstanding, they had a red light to deal with, and this would be their best chance to get close to Anne Sullivan. Maybe, just maybe, once they got this piece of history fixed, the omni would get them get back to headquarters. "Thank you," he said. "That's very kind." He looked back down at Bogg, hoping – but not expecting – a response. None came. He turned back to Anagnos. "We accept."


	5. Perkins

Bogg found the trip to the school both bewildering and frightening. Once Anagnos and Jeffrey got him off the bridge, they had traveled by streetcar to the Perkins School's South Boston location. The rocking motion of the carriage threw off what little balance Bogg had managed to pull together, and the sounds of the city completely overwhelmed his remaining senses. Unable to see when the car was about to turn, he flew sideways with each direction change, crashing into seats and metal bars, and had to grab hold of Jeff for support, feelings of helplessness and shame washing over him each time. In addition, the clanging of the streetcar's bell jangled his nerves, and the noise of the excited students made his head ache. By the time they reached their destination, he was physically and mentally exhausted.

As Anagnos and the other teachers led the students off the streetcar, Jeff took Bogg's arm and helped him stand. They stumbled down the stairs of the car, and Bogg almost fell on his face several times as Jeff guided him into the building. Bogg was concentrating so hard on where his feet came down he was barely able to listen as Anagnos explained the school's history, catching only that the current location had once been a hotel, the money for which had been donated by Thomas Perkins who had sold his own home to fund the purchase. They stopped once at some sort of supply room, where a matronly voice tutted at Jeff's sodden state and apparently handed the teen clean, dry clothes all the while commenting on Jeff's bravery in saving Charley and complimenting his handsome features. Bogg gritted his teeth and hoped he was as invisible as he felt.

When they finally stopped, Anagnos skillfully and gently guided Bogg around the small room he had brought them to, carefully explaining the locations of different furnishings, but Bogg paid little attention to the man's words and descriptions; his thoughts were too fractured. After a few minutes, they reached an armchair, and Anagnos let go of his arm. Bogg stood by the chair, clutching the upholstered back, desperately trying to get his bearings. Wet cloth slapped the floor nearby and murmured voices hummed in the background, but he couldn't bring himself to follow the words being said. The hopelessness he had felt on Boston Common resurfaced and intensified, pulling his spirits down into a vortex of black thoughts of worthlessness and failure.

He groped his way to the front of the chair and collapsed into the cushions, breathing hard as his mind raced. It took him a few seconds to realize Jeff had been speaking to him. Silence other than Jeff's voice alerted him to the fact that Anagnos had left.

"Bogg, are you all right?"

He avoided the question. "Sorry, what?" Bogg's heart was pounding and his nerves sang like a taut wire. His hands searched for the chair's armrest and gripped them as though they were a life raft. His left hand throbbed as his fingers sank into the fabric.

"Mr. Anagnos is checking with the teachers to see if he can find some clothes to fit you. He invited us to join him for dinner," Jeff explained, his voice tentative. "How about it? I know I'm hungry."

Bogg thought for a moment before responding. _I can't even walk across a room by myself. How does he expect me to navigate a plate? _A sudden image flashed through his mind of himself sitting at a dinner table, food everywhere... and Jeff having to feed him. He gulped and shuddered, recoiling from the image. "I'm fine," he said quietly. "You go. I'm tired."

"Bogg, you haven't eaten anything since we were in Tuscumbia." Concern made Jeff's voice brittle and edgy, but Bogg pushed away any awareness of Jeff's distress.

"I'm not hungry." The words were clipped, barely audible, and patently untrue. For the first time Bogg could remember, he was intentionally lying to Jeff. It made him feel – if possible – even worse.

"But..."

"I _said_ I'm tired," Bogg barked, his voice rising above a whisper for the first time since they had left the bridge. He could hear Jeff's sharp intake of breath and the soft tread on the carpet as the teen took a surprised step backwards, and a momentary flash of guilt overcame him, both for his tone and for the lie. He shook his head and opened his mouth to apologize but closed it again as the image of himself attempting to eat a meal resurfaced. Embarrassment and fear of being a burden to Jeffrey overrode the need to apologize. "I'm tired," he said again. He slumped back in the chair, tilted his head backwards, and tried to slow his breathing enough to feign the early stages of sleep. A long minute passed, then he heard footsteps and the sound of the doorknob turning. There was a momentary pause, a click as the door shut, and then silence as Jeffrey left without saying another word.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dinner was an elegant, if somewhat quiet affair. Jeffrey ate without tasting much of what he put in his mouth, mostly just pushing food around his plate. Anagnos was a gracious enough host not to comment on his guest's distracted manner. He talked as if he and Jeffrey were engaged in a conversation, telling him about the school's mission and describing the successes of his students, and filling the voids with explanations of teaching methods and future plans for the institution.

When the meal was over, however, that changed.

"Your father did not wish to join us for dinner?" Anagnos' tone was neutral. Jeff shook his head and tried to concoct a polite excuse. Anagnos held up a hand and stopped him partway through. "You don't need to explain. He must be exhausted. And overwhelmed."

Jeff's answering nod was brief and abrupt. His eyes grew distant as he pictured Bogg sitting in the room, alone in the dark, wincing as it struck home again that – for now, at least – it would be dark for his partner even in broad daylight.

"You're worried about him." It wasn't a question. Jeff's head jerked up, his gaze meeting Anagnos', his eyes wide and worried. "Your father is a lucky man to have so dedicated a son to watch after him," Anagnos continued. "Tell me about him. You said his injury is recent. What is he like in better times?"

Jeff sighed deeply. "Not like this. He's brash... and kind... and brave. He's got the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known." His voice softened. "This isn't like him at all. It's as if someone flipped a switch and turned him off." He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a moment, knowing they reflected the fear he felt. "I don't know what to do. He won't talk to me. He's scaring me."

Anagnos nodded sympathetically. "I can only imagine how terrible this must be for him. To lose his sight so suddenly..."

"No!," Jeff roared, rising from his seat. Anagnos flinched, startled by the vehemence in Jeff's voice. The teen sat back down and took a deep breath, attempting to modulate his tone. "I'm sorry, sir, it's just..."

"You don't need to apologize," the man said, "but I thought you said a stove exploded in his face?"

Jeff let out a long, unhappy breath. "The doctors weren't able to tell if his eyes were damaged." he explained. "The burns need to heal before they know for sure."

The school director nodded. "I see." He tilted his head to the side, looking puzzled. "So, what brought you to Boston, Jeffrey? You said you had recently arrived in town. Do you have family here?"

Jeff shook his head. "No. It's just the two of us." He paused for a moment to invent an explanation for their recent arrival and decided to stick with as much of the truth as he could tell. "We travel from place to place... fixing things. We came here for work."

"And it's no longer possible for you to do that job?"

"I don't know," Jeff admitted. "It could be more difficult now."

Anagnos' brow creased, then his expression cleared. "The two of you must have been sent by Providence." At Jeff's confused look, he explained. "I have a student... No, I forget. Anne's no longer a student – she was our valedictorian last year – but remains here assisting with the younger children." The man's lips quirked into a small smile. "If I keep talking like this, my explanation will require an explanation." He sighed. "Earlier in the summer I received a letter from a southern gentleman with a blind and deaf daughter seeking a teacher for the child. I believe Anne would be perfect for the position. She has the skills, the knowledge, the tenacity to reach the child, but she refuses to consider it. She insists she's not suitable."

Jeffrey swallowed. "And you believe she can do the job, sir?"

"Yes, and perhaps you and your father can help me convince her of that." The man's expression grew serious. "Jeffrey, you say the doctors couldn't tell you if your father's sight will be restored, and I know you saw how much difficulty he had getting here from the Common. Now, as I said earlier, I will be more than happy to introduce you to the physicians I know at Boston Eye and Ear, but if his wounds need to heal before he can be examined..."

"He'll need skills to function in the meantime," Jeff said softly, "and in case..." His eyes filled as the words failed him. He cleared his throat. "Just in case."

Anagnos looked at the young man with compassion. "Perhaps Anne can assist your father in becoming accustomed to his current limitations. And perhaps at the same time, the two of you can help me show Anne how fit she is for this position. Will you help me, Jeffrey?"

_This is the opportunity we needed,_ Jeff thought. _This is how we can get the green light. _He nodded, the decision made. "Let's get started. The sooner we talk to her, the better."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Bogg heard the doorknob turn and the door slide across the carpet. He hadn't moved from the chair since the door had closed behind Jeff, and he had no idea how long ago that had been. A low, whooshing sound came from across the room and the faint odor of gas told him a lamp had been lit. A porcelain clang echoed off a table from across the room, and Bogg caught a whiff of freshly baked bread and chicken. Immediately his stomach responded, grumbling loudly. "Jeff?" he whispered. No response. It wasn't like the boy not to have spoken by now.

A swishing of fabric crossed the room, moving closer to his chair, a faint scent of lavender wafted through the air. Not Jeff. A woman. _Great,_ he thought bitterly, _just what I need._ He lifted his head. The lavender grew stronger, covering the smell of the bread, as light footsteps tapped purposefully against the carpet.

"_You're_ Jeffrey's father?" The astonished voice was a young sounding rich alto with a trace of an Irish brogue. "What, did you get him on some poor girl when you were twelve or something?" Bogg's jaw dropped. This was not at all what he had expected. "He must favor his mother, then," she continued, "for he certainly looks nothing like _you_." She paused for a moment. "And aren't you planning on eating that sandwich. I heard that noise your stomach made. It's right across the room from you."

Bogg closed his mouth, then opened it again, feeling like a fish out of water. The shock of the girl's words – she really didn't sound much older than Jeff – pushed away the black thoughts that had been haunting him since they landed in Boston. "Who _are _you?," he demanded. "Where's Jeff?" He felt her move to the side of the chair, and the aroma of the bread became stronger. The knowledge of how close it was made his mouth water. He swallowed.

"You answer my questions first, Mr. Jones," the girl replied. "Jeffrey can't be more than seventeen, and there's no way you're old enough..."

"Bogg. Jeff's last name is Jones. Not mine." Bogg took a deep breath, trying to keep his stomach from betraying how hungry he was. "He's sixteen. I... adopted... him a little over five years ago." He paused, turning to the last direction her voice had come from. "Now it's your turn."

"And the sandwich?"

"Tell me who you are first." Bogg spoke through clenched teeth. This girl could give Olivia lessons in how to irritate people. "You have me at a disadvantage here."

A momentary silence blanketed the room, and Bogg figured she was trying to come up with something else offensive to say. He heard her take a deep breath. "My name is Anne. Mr. Anagnos asked me to bring you some food." Her voice took on a harsher tone. "And I've done so. Are you going to eat it, or did I come here for naught?" Bogg lowered his head, hoping if he didn't answer, she would go away. "Oh, for the love of all that's holy," she muttered. A soft hand grabbed hold of his arm, and she pulled him to his feet with a surprising strength. "Starving yourself won't do Jeffrey any good," she said as she pulled him across the room. "Come on, it's ten steps to the table. The plate's a handspan from the edge closest to you. It's a chicken sandwich so you don't have to worry about silverware."

Anne counted off the steps as they walked. When they reached the table she moved her hand from Bogg's arm. He slowly moved it down until he felt a smoothly polished surface beneath his palm. He flattened out his hand, and his fingers brushed something cool and ceramic. He grasped the plate and pulled it towards him. Tentatively, he reached out with his left hand until he felt the spongy texture of the bread, the grabbed the sandwich with both hands, raised it to his mouth, and ate for the first time in... he didn't know how long.

When he finished, he unconsciously wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then turned to where he could hear Anne's breathing. "Thank you," he said, gratitude infusing his voice.

She snorted. "Been a while since you had a meal, is it? One would think you were starving. You _were_ planning on feeding yourself and that son of yours somehow, weren't you?"

Bogg straightened up, angry at the implication that he didn't care enough to provide for Jeff and even more furious that – right now at least – he had no way to do that. "You know, you ask a lot of personal question for a servant," he snarled. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew he had said the wrong thing. Heat and anger radiated from Anne as if she were on fire. He stepped back, knocking into the table and sending the plate crashing to the floor.

"A _servant_?" Anne practically spat the words at him. "I'm to be a _teacher _at this school_._ You have no idea how hard I've worked to get where I am, to become educated, to be useful. How dare you?"

"I'm sorry." Bogg's shoulders slumped and his head bowed. "I shouldn't have assumed..."

The door opened. "Bogg? Someone's coming to... Oh, Miss Sullivan, you're here already." Jeff approached them, his feet striking the carpeted floor more forcefully than Anne's had. "Are you okay?"

"Your father and I were getting acquainted, Jeffrey. As it's getting late, I'll leave you two and head off to my room." The edge was still in her voice. The lavender scent passed by Bogg as she spoke, and he knew she was turning towards the door.

"Miss Sullivan?" Jeff's voice was soft as he spoke her name. "Mr. Anagnos asked if you would stop and see him before you turn in. He wanted to know your answer." He swallowed. "Do you think...?"

"I don't know, Jeffrey. I'm sorry." Her voice was also soft, and Bogg could hear a sadness in it that was at odds with the way she had been treating him. Something about Jeffrey affected her. As she spoke, Jeff took hold of his arm and started walking. "Mr. Bogg!" Bogg turned his head towards her words. "It was ten steps from the chair to the table. Remember that." Then he heard the door shut behind her.

Bogg counted the steps back to the chair, Jeff's hand grasping his arm. His mind was whirling again, but this time with thoughts of Anne, her rude – if straightforward – questions, her strength, the feelings of sadness that emanated from her when Jeff had appeared. "That's our red light, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jeff replied. "Mr. Anagnos has already gotten the letter from Captain Keller. He's trying to convince her to take the job." Bogg could hear the hesitation in his words. "He thinks all she needs is some confidence in her teaching ability." Bogg snorted. "We were hoping you might let her work with you for a few days. Give her some practice."

"No."

"But, Bogg..."

"I said no. We'll field strip the omni and head for HQ. They can send someone in to take our place."

Jeff yawned. "We'll at least have to wait until morning. I'm exhausted, and even with the lamp, it's too dark for me... I'm too tired." He paused. "There's a bed for each of us. I'll help you." He put Bogg's arm on his shoulder and walked slowly over to a bed. Bogg could feel disappointment emanating from Jeff's body. Jeff turned away and Bogg heard him extinguish the lamp then slowly make his way over to the other bed. "I'll see you in the morning. Good night."

Bogg sighed inwardly. _But I won't see you,_ he thought, the darkness returning to his mind. He turned his head to the side. Leaving was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do.


	6. Lessons

Despite his exhaustion, sleep eluded Jeffrey. He lay in bed, eyes heavy and dry, and worried about his partner. The events of the last few hours replayed over and over in his mind – Bogg's refusal to join Anagnos for dinner, the conversation about Anne, Bogg's insistence that they leave their job undone. With a deep sigh, Jeff gave trying to sleep, sat up, and looked over at the other bed. In the dim light, he could see the steady rise and fall of Bogg's chest as he slept. The after-effects of his injuries, the anesthesia, and the events since their arrival in Boston had quickly pushed Bogg into a deep slumber that Jeff knew was real, unlike the feigned sleep from earlier in the evening when Bogg had been trying to avoid leaving the room. _And me._ Jeff had to be honest with himself. _He was trying to avoid me._ He sighed again, hoping the night's rest would improve Bogg's outlook. _We can't leave now. There's too much at stake._

Jeff rubbed his eyes. They felt like someone had poured a bucketful of sand into them. His body practically screamed with exhaustion, but he couldn't stop his mind from racing. He had been truly surprised when he had examined the omni and had seen how little time had passed since they left Korea. The time compression that accompanied their voyages was one of the things he had never really gotten used to. Traveling from event to event made everything seem more immediate, more urgent, and these shorter jumps skewed his sense of how much time had actually passed. _I need to cut Bogg some slack_, he thought, rubbing his forehead with his hands. _He's been through a lot, and those burns... He must be in a lot of pain._ He yawned and put his head back down on the pillow. What Bogg needed was time to rest. Maybe once he felt better, he'd be more willing to finish the voyage. He'd talk to Anne – _Miss Sullivan_, he reminded himself – in the morning about waiting a few days. That would give him the opportunity to talk Bogg out of his plan to try to get the omni working and leave. _She'll understand_. The sandy feeling dissipated as his eyes grew heavy, and, feeling confident in his decision, he finally fell asleep.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Bogg woke to sunshine warm on his arms and a slightly bitter scent wafting in the air by his head, as if someone had left tea steeping too long. He wrinkled his nose at the smell. The slight action sent shooting pains across the skin under the bandages, making him gasp. "Bat's breath," he muttered from between clenched teeth, his right hand moving unconsciously to his face. Slowly, he raised himself to a sitting position, trying to move away from the acrid smell and caught a whiff of lavender as he moved. He froze. Someone was watching him. "Jeff?"

"He's gone for breakfast, Mr. Bogg." Anne's voice – matter-of-fact and holding no hint of last night's anger – came from the direction of the chair he had been sitting in yesterday. "I brought you some willow bark tea. It should help ease the pain you're feeling from those burns." Her skirts rustled as she stood, and soft footfalls indicated she was moving closer to the bed. He grabbed the covers, straightening them out over his legs, and thought he heard a quiet chuckle escape from the girl. Something landed on the bed next to him, making a soft 'whump' sound. "Mr. Anagnos sent some clothes for you. None of the teachers looked to be exactly your size, but they'll do for now."

Without thinking, Bogg reached out with his left hand, realizing with a start, his fingertips could discern differences in the fabrics, the smoothness of the cotton shirt and the slightly scratchy weave of the woollen pants. The burns on his hand must not have been as severe as those on his face and were starting to heal. _Good,_ he thought. _It'll be easier to deal with the omni with two hands_. Out loud he said, "Thank you. Please let Mr. Anagnos know I'm grateful."

"You can tell him yourself," she responded. "Get those on, and we'll go find him."

Bogg sank back down into the bed. "No." He felt better than he had yesterday – both physically and mentally – but knew he wasn't ready for too much movement. Even the slight motion to reach for the clothes exhausted him, and especially not when everything outside of the room was still so bewildering. "I'm not..."

The door of the room flew open. "Bogg! Good, you're up." Jeffrey entered the room, followed by the aroma of eggs, bacon, and toast. "I brought you some..." His voice faltered. "Miss Sullivan? What are you doing here?" The sound of metal on wood indicated a tray of food had been placed on the table.

Bogg heard the chair springs creak slightly as she sat down. "Delivering clothes, Jeffrey." Her voice had that soft note again. She shifted, the sound of her movement filling the momentary silence. "I thought we'd get back to your father's lessons."

"Yeah, lessons... Bogg, are you okay getting dressed by yourself? Do you feel all right?" Jeff's voice sounded strained. "I need to talk to Miss Sullivan."

"Sure, kid. I can manage. Come back soon?" He hated that he sounded so tentative. The hopelessness of last night was replaced with a certainty that he couldn't be alone. He needed Jeffrey, probably more now than he ever had before. Somehow the knowledge didn't make him feel any better. Footsteps crossed the carpeted floor, and the door quietly shut. In the silence that suddenly filled the room, Bogg groped for the clothes, then started to change, hoping Jeff would be back soon.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Miss Sullivan..."

Anne placed a hand on Jeff's shoulder. "Please, Jeffrey, call me Anne. I'm not that much older than you are." She reached up a hand and pushed a stray curl from his forehead with a sad smile. "I had a brother once with curls like that. Jimmie his name was."

Jeff stared. Had he known that? No. Most of what he knew about Anne Sullivan focused on her work with Helen Keller. He wondered what her life had been like before that time. "What happened to him?"

Her expression closed. "He died in Tewksbury." At his puzzled look, she continued. "The poorhouse where I lived before coming here." Jeff's eyes widened in surprise. _Poorhouse?_ He saw her eyes move from his face and start scanning her surroundings. "I never thought I'd get to go to school. This place seemed like paradise. It still does." She looked back at him. "What was it you wanted, Jeffrey?"

"I wanted to talk with you about the lessons." He swallowed. What he intended to say had seemed so easy while half-asleep. Awake it was proving more difficult. "I'm glad you decided to help him, but I think we need to give him a few days." He waved his hands in front of him, trying to find the words that had made so much sense to him before. "His injury is so recent. He must be in pain. He needs to heal a bit, and I'd like to give him a chance to get used to not being able to see. I'm afraid of dumping too much on him too soon."

Anne regarded him for a moment, the light glinting off her glasses. "You name yourself his son, and the bond between you must be strong, given your behavior towards each other, but, Jeffrey, I know he's not your father. He told me himself you were adopted." Her lips pressed together for a moment, then let out a breath. "If it's not too painful, may I ask how you lost your parents?"

"They were killed in an accident," he answered, wondering what this had to do with letting Bogg rest.

The look she gave him was curiously devoid of emotion. "I see, and have you grown accustomed to their loss?" Her voice was solicitous but distant, as if she were politely asking how the weather was.

Jeff felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. _Accustomed to their loss? _He shook his head, unable to speak, and worked on trying to remember how to breathe.

"Nor am I reconciled to Jimmie's loss," she said softly. "Nor will _he," _she indicated the door with a toss of her head, "be to the loss of his sight. Learning skills will keep his mind occupied so he won't have as much time to dwell on it. The longer he sits, the harder it will be for him."

Jeff nodded, remembering how much worse things had been for him before Bogg had broken through his bedroom window. He had spent all his time missing his parents, wishing they hadn't died. Voyaging had given something else to focus on, something to think about other than the aching loneliness. "You're right," he whispered, still stunned. "I know you're right. I'll talk to him, but you have to give me until tomorrow. We'll let him rest today and start then."

"He did well enough last night," Anne pointed out. "Hunger was a motivation..."

"No." Jeff's voice was firm. "Today I need to take care of him. He's always taken care of me." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you."

"Until tomorrow, then," she said, but Jeff could tell she wasn't happy. "Make him drink the tea I brought. It'll taste something awful but should help with the pain." She turned and walked down the hall. Jeff watched until she was gone, took a deep breath, then went back into the room.

Jeff spent the better part of the day wheedling and cajoling his partner to finish out the voyage, to let Anne work with him. Bogg was still depressed but seemed less despairing than the day before; he had stopped insisting on leaving as soon as they could repair the omni and seemed to be keeping his temper in check. At least, he no longer barked at Jeff every time something overwhelmed him. Mostly he either lay in his bed dozing or sat in the chair, lost in thought. Jeff wasn't sure whether to be worried or relieved as he didn't think melancholy was necessarily an improvement. By the afternoon, Bogg had moved entirely to the chair, and Jeff sat on the floor nearby and talked almost non-stop to distract him, telling him everything he could remember about Helen Keller's life and achievements. Bogg sat, his head turned away from Jeffrey, absently picking at food from the plate on the table and sipping at the bitter tea Anne had brought.

"Is it really that important to you?" The words were so faint, Jeff thought he had imagined them.

Jeff swallowed. "Yes. It is, but not just because of who Helen Keller is going to be or even because of who Anne is." He paused and let out a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "It's because of who _you_ are."

Bogg turned his head towards Jeff for the first time since the morning. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It does to me. This isn't you, Bogg." He scooted closer to the chair and put a hand on Bogg's arm. "I know you're in pain, and you're scared, but you've never been a quitter. Remember Louis Pasteur?" Bogg shuddered, and Jeff could see a different kind of pain etching itself on his face as the memories hit. "You wouldn't give up until he tried his vaccine, even though it meant putting the Mona Lisa on hold. This is sort of like that. Mr. Anagnos told me at the Common, he knows doctors at Boston Eye and Ear who could examine you. I think we should stay until you heal enough so they can check you out."

"HQ has better medical facilities, and..."

"And the way the omni's been acting lately, it could just as easily dump us in Timbuktu as at headquarters. Bogg, I... I don't want you to get hurt worse." Jeff's voice grew hoarse and he could feel his eyes filling. "I've lost one family, Bogg. I don't want to lose another, and right now, I feel like I'm losing you." He watched as Bogg grew even more still, the late afternoon shadows hiding his damaged face. "If we stay for a few days, we can give you a better chance to heal and can try to convince Anne to take the job with the Kellers. If you don't want to let her work with you, that's fine. I'll talk to her, try to persuade her to take the chance."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Jeff carefully watching Bogg's face for any clues as to what the man was thinking. Finally, Bogg shifted slightly and placed his right hand over Jeff's. "Kid, I'm scared." The words were whispered. "Who am I if I can't do my job? What do I do?"

"You're my partner. And wherever you end up, I go with you. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Bogg let out a long, slow breath. "All right. I'll let her practice on me." He held up a hand. "Just until the docs can take a look under these bandages. If it's not good news..."

"We aim for headquarters," Jeff finished. "I promise."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Bogg's lessons started the next day. Anne expression started out satisfied but grew stormier over the course of the morning as Jeff first helped Bogg get from the bed to the table then started helping him with all of her instructions. When they stopped for lunch, she ordered Jeff to follow her into the hallway. "Jeffrey, propriety aside, you need to leave me alone with him."

Jeff shook his head. "No. He needs me."

Anne gave him an exasperated look. "I won't break him, Jeffrey, but as long as you're here, he'll look to you rather than me. He won't learn anything that way."

Watching through the barely-opened door, Jeff saw Bogg working on their last exercise, picking up a mug and the pitcher of water from the table and trying to pour himself a glass of water. Anne had spent the better part of the last hour showing Bogg how to place his fingers on the inside of the mug so he could judge he level of the water and know to stop pouring. Mostly, Bogg had gotten wet and irritable. As Jeff stood there, he saw the water again spill over the edge of the mug onto the table. Bogg slammed the pitcher down, threw the mug at his feet, and crumpled angrily into his chair.

Anne grabbed his arm as he tried to enter the room. "No." Her voice was compassionate but firm. "He needs to learn how to do it himself. If you're here, he won't. It's as simple as that."

He stood for a minute watching the slump of Bogg's shoulders as the water dripped from the table to the floor and then to his knees. _She's right_, he thought. _I want to do it for him. _Finally, a look of anguish on his face, he nodded. "I'll be back in a few hours," he said. "I can't leave him that long. He'll think I've abandoned him."

She nodded back at him, her dark eyes sympathetic behind her glasses. "It's a lovely day today. Go enjoy some fresh air. I'll go deal with Mr. Stubborn in there." Then she stood there until he walked away.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Bogg sat in the chair, head in his hands, water dripping onto his knees. _What's the point? _he thought. _If I need a drink, I'll just ask for one._ Not trying was easier. _All I'm doing is getting wet_. Then at the back of his mind, he heard Jeffrey's words from the day before – "You've never been a quitter" – and the fear in the teen's voice as he pleaded for cooperation. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll get wet. It's not like that hasn't ever happened before."

He gingerly lowered himself to the floor and reached out with his hands, groping around until he found the mug, the smooth metal cool to the touch. He grasped it with his left hand, letting the wet sides soothe the lingering burns on his fingers and reached up with his right to find the edge of the table, not wanting to crack his head on the tabletop for a second time that morning. He stood carefully, his inability to see still affecting his balance if he moved too quickly, then searched again for the pitcher. He ignored the mug's handle and wrapped his hand around the body of it, slipping his index finger over the rim. Then he brought the edge of the mug to the pitcher's spout and started to pour. "Concentrate, Phineas," he said. "Let's not get more soaked than we have to." The water made an almost musical gurgling sound as the mug filled. Then, after what seemed an eternity, he felt the liquid brushing lightly against his fingertip. He pulled the pitcher away quickly, water sloshing over the handle and sending droplets onto the hand grasping its handle. Slowly, he lowered the pitcher to the table, hearing a faint thud as it made contact with the wooden surface, then raised the mug to his mouth and drank.

"Very good, Mr. Bogg." Anne's voice came from the other side of the room, and there was something in it Bogg couldn't place. "I think we might be ready to move on to food. Would you care for some lunch?"

A smile slowly formed on Bogg's face as he realized what he had done. "Now that you mention it, I am a bit hungry."

"Good. Have a seat, and we'll move on to silverware." The emotion was still there, and it took a moment for him to recognize it. Triumph. For the first time today, he could hear Anne smiling.

His smile widened in response. "Sounds good."


	7. Waiting

For the first few minutes Jeff stood in the hallway, pacing back and forth in front of the door, straining his ears trying to hear what was happening inside the room. There was no yelling, no crashing noises, nothing metallic falling to the floor or being thrown at a wall. Gradually, a tightness he hadn't noticed before in his shoulders relaxed. Bogg was in good hands. He let out a long, slow breath and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. As much as he hated to admit it, Anne was right in sending him away, and fresh air sounded good right about now.

He made his way to the hotel's lobby and went out the back door to a small garden area behind the building. The sun was shining, and there was a slight breeze carrying the scent of late summer flowers. Jeff sighed, wondering how long he would have to stay outside before he could go check to see how Bogg was doing.

"But, Sarah! Why do I have to learn this?" A familiar voice came from behind a maple tree. Charley's voice. Jeff grinned and strode over to the sound. "What does it matter if I know about President Washington?"

"Charley," a female voice warned, "it's part of the curriculum. Your classmates are all learning about him, _and_ you'll be having a test on this material tomorrow. But besides that..."

"Besides that," Jeff interjected as he circled to the back of the tree, "George Washington was a fascinating man. Did you know he almost joined the British Royal Navy when he was fourteen? Imagine what our country would have been like if he'd been on board a ship fighting for the British instead of for American independence."

The boy's face lifted up towards Jeff's voice, his expression gleeful. "Jeffrey!" He grabbed the girl's sleeve and practically bounced off the bench. "Sarah, this is the man who saved me at the Public Garden!"

Jeff grinned widely, the worries of the morning subsiding at the boy's happiness at his appearance. "It's good to see you safe and dry, Charley. Now, what's this I hear about you not wanting to learn about President Washington?"

"I am afraid our Charley is a reluctant student of history." The girl sitting on the bench with Charley rubbed the boy's hair affectionately, a small smile hovering around the corner of her mouth, showing just a hint of dimples. She seemed to be about Jeff's age, maybe a little older, with brown eyes the color of autumn oak leaves and dark blond hair pulled off her face into a loose twist. Jeff's jaw dropped as he looked at her. She wasn't conventionally beautiful – not like the women who threw themselves at Bogg everywhere they went – but there was something about her, and Jeff found he couldn't take his eyes off her. "Actually," she continued, "he seems to be a reluctant student of everything except causing trouble." The smile turned into a laugh, and Jeff felt his heart stutter at the sound.

"Maybe... Maybe, I can help," he stammered. "I know a lot about President history. I mean, President Washington."

The girl turned her face towards him, and Jeff realized with a start she was blind as well; her eyes held no expression, although her smile lit up her face. "That would be wonderful," she said. "I can use all the help I can get with this rascal. I'm Sarah Putnam." She moved over on the bench to make room for Jeffrey.

"Jeffrey Jones. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Putnam." Jeff could feel his face growing hot as he sat on the bench beside her.

"Well, then, Mr. Jones, shall we see what we can teach this young man?"

They spent the next several hours tutoring Charley until he was called inside by one of the other teachers. Jeff was surprised how quickly the time had passed. He had expected to spend the afternoon wandering around the small yard trying not to run back up to check on Bogg, but helping Sarah had completely occupied his mind. He found he had actually enjoyed himself, and was impressed by how much she knew about Washington and the Revolutionary War. "Do you do extra tutoring with all your students?" Jeff asked, once the boy was gone. "Or just Charley?"

"All my what?" Sarah's face showed her surprise at the question, followed quickly by comprehension. "Oh, I'm not a teacher here, Mr. Jones. I'm not quite sixteen. I'm a student. Mr. Tennant asked me to give Charley a hand with his studying."

Jeffrey was shocked. "You're my age? I thought..."

"Your age?" Sarah's voice echoed Jeffrey's shock. "But you sound so much older! I never would have guessed..." Then she laughed. "And here I was trying to sound grown up so I could impress you."

"Impress me? Why?" Jeff could feel his face turning red again.

Sarah lowered her face. "Everyone at school has heard about how you rescued Charley from drowning. I didn't want you to think I was..." She broke off.

"To think you were what?"

A bell rang from inside the building, breaking the mood. "Goodness, is that the dinner bell already?" Sarah stood, shook out her skirts, and held out her right hand. "It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Jones. I don't know when an afternoon has gone by so quickly."

Jeff took her hand in his, noting how soft and warm it was and how small it felt in his. "I enjoyed talking with you." As she turned to go, he blurted out, "Miss Putnam, I..."

She turned back to face him. "Yes?"

"I... It was... very nice to meet you." She nodded and turned to leave. Jeff watched her walk towards the school's back door, the fading sunlight turning her hair to gold, and mentally kicked himself. _Brilliant, Jones, just brilliant. She must think you're some kind of idiot._ He paced back and forth in front of the bench, then stopped and sighed. _And I am. I have no idea how to talk to a girl._ _ Bogg would have known what to say. _Thinking his partner's name made him realize how much time had passed since Anne had thrown him out. _I better go check on them. _

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Bogg heard a clanging sound in the distance and removed his hand from Anne's arm. "What was that?"

"Never you mind," she said, irritation in her voice. "You won't get around this room if your feet aren't moving, Mr. Bogg. Keep walking." She picked his hand up and put it back on her forearm, guiding him towards the windows.

As they passed the open windows, Bogg noticed the sun was no longer shining full force on his face. "Was that the dinner bell? What time is it?" He turned his head from side to side, listening. "Where's Jeff? I haven't heard him since lunchtime."

Anne sighed. "I sent him outside. He was looking peaked." She tugged on his arm. "And you're avoiding finishing this circuit."

"Well, if you'd quit moving the furniture around, I wouldn't have to avoid anything," Bogg complained. "I can manage the room just fine now. I'm going to have bruises all over for the next few weeks because of your 'redecorating'."

"If you plan only to stay in this room for the rest of your life, Mr. Bogg," Anne said in an acerbic tone, "then I'll happily put everything back exactly where it was." She paused. "If, however, you plan on leaving the room at some point, you're going to get more bruises then I've managed to give you today if you don't learn how to navigate. There are more things outside than tables and chairs, and you won't always know exactly where those things are. The sooner you get used to that..."

"I know, I know," Bogg finished, "the better off I'll be. I heard you the first several hundred times." He let out a breath, then nodded. Anne's words sounded harsh, but he could hear the pleasure hidden underneath them. She was proud of how much they had accomplished in so short a time, proud of him, and it made him more willing to do the work, despite how tired he was feeling. "All right, lead on, fair lady." He heard Anne snort softly and smiled to himself, amazed at how the day had turned around.

After his first success with the water pitcher, he had moved on to eating lunch – albeit slowly – with a fork and knife, then finding his way around the room, first with Anne's guidance, then alone. Once he was able to walk through the room unassisted, Anne started rearranging the furniture causing him to stumble and fall every few steps and forcing him back on her arm. They, started walking again, Anne tugging on his arm to get him to move at a more normal pace but didn't make it far. He hadn't made it two feet before stumbling stomach first into the back of his chair. The impact forced the air from his lungs and sent him crashing towards the floor. As he fell, he reached out for something to steady himself with and grabbed Anne's arm, but rather than her keeping him upright, his greater weight ended up pulling the girl to the floor with him.

Anne swatted at his arms and tried to disentangle herself from his legs. "Get off me! For heaven's sake, use your ears, Mr. Bogg! Listen to the sounds your shoes make as you get closer to..." She stopped as an odd tapping noise caused the floor to vibrate softly.

"What is it?" he asked. "Is Jeff back?" Bogg felt a sudden heat flush from her cheeks and turned his head from side to side, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound and her discomfort. The feel of her hair against his cheek made him realize they were in an extremely compromising position and how that might look to a spectator. He tried to straighten himself up, but just ended up getting more tangled in her skirts.

She poked him in the ribs with her elbow. "You're just making it worse," she whispered. "Mr. Anagnos," she said, raising her voice, "I didn't see you come in."

"I rather noticed that, my dear." Bogg recognized the man's voice from the other day; this time it carried a hint of amusement. "Anne, I wasn't aware that assisting our guest meant having him become acquainted with our floors." Footsteps moved across the room, growing louder as they came closer, then a strong hand closed on Bogg's forearm, supporting him as he struggled to free himself and stand. "I brought this for your lessons, Mr. Bogg." A long cane was placed in Bogg's hand. "Anne can show you how to use it. Tomorrow." His tone became more firm. "I would recommend the hallway first. You'll be able to hear the echoes better on wood than on the carpet." There was a short pause. "Anne, I would like you to join me for dinner now. It looks like Mr. Bogg could use some time to rest." His voice turned back to Bogg. "I'll make sure some supper is sent up for you and Jeffrey."

Anne made a non-committal sound in the back of her throat, and Bogg heard the rustling of her skirts as she crossed the room. "I'll be taking my leave of you, then. Until tomorrow, Mr. Bogg."

Bogg put out a hand and touched the back of the chair. "Wait. What about the furniture?"

"I'm sure you'll manage," she said from across the room. He could hear the smile in her voice. "Have a pleasant evening."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Jeff had returned to the room distracted, his mind still on Sarah, half-listening as he put the furniture back where it belonged. As he did this, Bogg filled him in on his afternoon. He had thought he was making 'uh-huh' noises every now and then until he heard Bogg say, "Kid, are you still there? You're awfully quiet. You're not coming down with something, are you? That willow bark tea is pretty awful."

"What?" Jeff blushed as he realized he hadn't really been paying attention. "Sorry. Lessons. They went well?"

"Yeah." Bogg's voice held a note of pride Jeff hadn't heard in a while. "You should check the omni. Are we green yet?"

Jeff pulled the device from his pocket, flipped open the cover, and shook his head. "Still red, but at least it's back to blinking again. I wonder why? Anne seems to be getting into the teaching."

"Enjoying the torture is more like it." Bogg snorted. "I don't think there's a single part of me not black and blue." He stood up from the chair, walked carefully back over the bed, and lowered himself on to the mattress with a grunt. "I'm bushed. So what did you do this afternoon?"

"Uh." Jeff gulped, suddenly feeling very shy. "Remember Charley? I helped one of the students here tutor him for a test. George Washington." He flushed as he thought of Sarah. The memory of sitting next to her on the bench made his heart beat faster. "It was… fun." He couldn't believe how lame the words sounded.

"Have you got plans for tomorrow? I get the feeling Anne is going to want you to make yourself scarce again."

"No." Jeff's voice was soft. "Not yet at least." _Other than trying to find her_, he thought. He smiled to himself, remembering how the late summer sun fell on Sarah's hair, streaking it with gold.

"Good." Bogg lay down gingerly. "And, Jeff?" Jeff wrenched his mind away from thoughts of Sarah and forced himself to listen to Bogg's words. "I'm sorry."

That got Jeff's attention. "For what? You didn't throw me out. Anne did."

Bogg fingers brushed against the bandage covering his eyes. "For my behavior. For being so difficult. For making you be the adult in all this." He let out a sigh that turned into a yawn. "You're a great Voyager, kid."

Jeff sat for a moment, stunned. "Thanks," he finally said. "I learned from the best." There was a long silence, then Jeff cleared his throat. "Bogg? There is something I need some advice on. Remember that conversation we had in Hwacheon? About my education?" There was no answer. Jeff walked over to Bogg's bed, perched on the side, then let out a sigh of his own. His partner was already fast asleep.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Bogg had been right. Anne had arrived Saturday morning with a breakfast tray and an order for Jeff to leave once he had eaten. "It's not that I don't enjoy your company, Jeffrey..." she started to say.

"She doesn't want any witnesses," Bogg muttered, a sour expression on his face. Anne's arrival had woken him up, and he wasn't pleased about the early hour.

Jeff shrugged his shoulders at Anne, who smiled back at him. Once he had bolted some food, he left to try to run into Sarah accidentally somewhere. The garden courtyard was empty, so he went back inside to explore, hoping to find her in one of the classrooms or hallways but had no luck. Instead, he ran into Mr. Anagnos who was on his way to visit some friends – a few of the doctors from Boston Eye and Ear. "I'll be sure to ask about your father, Jeffrey," the man said before offering Jeffrey use of his personal library. "Anne told me she requested you leave them alone. You must be looking for some amusement while your father is occupied. I have Mr. Twain's last novel, if you are interested." Jeff accepted gratefully. Maybe reading would take his mind off Sarah.

With a copy of _Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_ in his hands, he wandered back to the garden, figuring he could at least spend the morning on the bench with one of his favorite face already buried in the pages of the book as he walked, he was startled to find the bench already occupied by the very person he had been seeking. Sarah was sitting in the sunshine with a faraway look on her face that made Jeff want to know what she was thinking. "Miss Putnam?"

She started at the sound of his voice, then relaxed. "Mr. Jones?"

"Yes, and please call me Jeff." He seated himself on the bench next to her. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't frighten you."

"Only a little. I was composing a letter to my sister Abigail." She turned to face him, guilt showing on her face. "I should be inside typing it, but it's too nice a day to be indoors. And, if I'm to call you Jeff, you must call me Sarah."

"All right. Sarah." They sat in silence for a minute, Jeff acutely aware of her presence next to him. "I could help you if you'd like. I'd be happy to write the letter for you." He stopped, unsure if he was being rude or not. "I mean, it's not that I don't think you can't... It's just so nice out that there's no reason to..."

Sarah smiled at him. "That's very kind of you, but it can wait until after church tomorrow. Part of the reason I'm still composing it, is I don't yet know what I'm going to say." The smile faltered. "Abby's in London with our family. I haven't seen them in almost a year, and truthfully, I'm not sure what to write. My life is school. Her life is parties, ball gowns, suitors. What mine would have been if I still had my sight." Her expression grew bleak.

It took all of Jeff's control not to take her hand, to try to comfort her. "If you don't mind my asking, how _did_ you lose your sight?"

"A riding accident," she said, turning her head away from him. "I dared my brother Richard to jump a fence. He said the ground was too soft. I called him a coward and tried it myself." She shrugged slightly. "He was right. I was thrown from the saddle. My father called in a specialist from town who said it was a miracle I hadn't been killed and that the headache should pass, but when I woke up the next morning everything was dark." She shook her head slightly. "The accident destroyed my father's plans for an alliance with one of his business partners. No one in his social circle wanted damaged goods for their son's bride. Sighted, I was valuable to him; blind, I became unimportant, an embarrassment. My mother was able to help me convince him to let me come here to school. It was easy. I think he was glad to send me away." She turned back towards him. "I lost a lot that day, but I think in the end, I gained more. I've learned so much here. As much as I miss being able to see, I think I'd miss this more."

Jeff swallowed. "Your father's the blind one," he said, his voice husky. "You're not unimportant. I saw you with Charley yesterday. You're a student of history and a brilliant teacher. He should be proud of you."

"That's kind of you to say, Jeff, but..."

"No, it's not. It's a fact." Now he did take her hand. "Look, Sarah, I've met a lot of people over the years. Some of them were important, some of them were ordinary, but none were like you. Don't ever let anyone tell you you're not special, because they're wrong. I know." He flushed and dropped her hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." He stood and turned away, embarrassed at his outburst.

"Jeff, wait." He looked back to see Sarah standing as well. "No one's ever said anything like that to me before. It means a lot. Thank you."

"Jeffrey?" Anne's voice called across the courtyard. "Are you out here? You need to come back now."

Panic flared up hot in Jeff's chest. "Is something wrong? Is Bogg okay?"

"He's fine, don't worry," Anne responded. "Mr. Anagnos is back. He's talked to the doctors and wants to tell your father what they said. He thinks it would be better if you were there."

Jeff turned back to Sarah. "I have to go."

She nodded. "I know. You need to be with your father."

"Promise me you won't forget what I said." His voice was fierce and low.

"I won't forget," she whispered.

He reached out for her hand again, squeezed it gently, then raised it to his lips and kissed it. Then he looked at her one more time, released her hand, and turned to go back inside.


	8. Outcomes

Bogg sat still as a statue, his heart beating so loudly in his ears he was surprised the others couldn't hear it. "Tomorrow?" A hand gripped his shoulder, delicate but strong – Anne's hand. He reached up automatically to grasp it and felt her weave her fingers into his.

"Dr. Robinson would like to examine you himself, to make his own diagnosis. He asked if you would call on him at his surgery after church tomorrow. If that's agreeable with you, Mr. Bogg." Anagnos paused, waiting for a response, but Bogg was too stunned to answer.

"Has it been long enough?" Jeff's voice sounded subdued and brittle in Bogg's ears. "The doctors who treated him said if the bandages came off too soon..." The words stopped abruptly.

"Jeff." The word came out more harshly than Bogg had intended, and he heard the teen expel a sharp breath in protest. He turned towards the school director. "Please let the doctor know I'll be there. And give him my thanks."

"Of course," Anagnos replied. "Anne, I think we should let Jeffrey and his father have some time alone. To talk."

"Yes," Anne murmured, "I can come back later." She squeezed Bogg's hand and her lavender scent wafted by him as she walked away.

The door clicked shut. Bogg stayed seated for a moment, then stood and walked over to where he could hear Jeff's shaky breathing. "You all right, kid?"

He heard Jeff swallow. "Bogg, what if it _is_ too soon? What if you're not healed enough? What if..."

"Jeff." Bogg reached out his right hand, feeling the weave of Jeff's linen shirt under his fingers. He slowly raised the hand until his fingers brushed the side of Jeff's face. "I have to know." He felt the teen bow his head. "And I'd rather find out sooner rather than later." He ruffled Jeff's curls and let his hand fall back down. "You still have the omni?"

"Of course, I do." Jeff sounded startled. "Why?"

Bogg gave him a tight smile. "You wanted me to walk you through a field strip, didn't you?" He could almost feel Jeff's astonishment. "Well, get over here. If we're leaving tomorrow, we need to get it done. You already told me you didn't want to end up in Timbuktu."

Cleaning the omni and putting it back together took the rest of the afternoon. "It's not something you can do a slap-dash job on, kid," he said more than once. "It's got to be done right." They ate dinner at the table, bits and pieces of the omni scattered around their plates. They finished as the sun was setting. Bogg brushed his fingers over the device, making sure it was put back together securely, then grabbed the cane he and Anne had been working with all morning and stretched. "Is there an outside to this place? I haven't been off this hallway since we got here. I could really use some fresh air."

"There's... There's a garden in the back." The subdued tone was back in Jeff's voice, as well as something else Bogg couldn't place. Depression? Regret? It definitely didn't sound like Jeffrey's normal buoyancy. "I can take you there if you want."

Bogg tapped the cane on the floor. "Just lead the way. I can give this thing a test drive." He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "There's no clutch so I should be okay." To his surprise, Jeff didn't laugh. Nor did he comment on Bogg's driving ability. Something was definitely not right. _I guess he'll tell me when he's ready, _he thought. _At least, I hope so._

The trip to the garden took less time than Bogg thought it would, yet still left him exhausted. There was so much to concentrate on – vibrations from the cane giving clues as to the changing surfaces underfoot, echoes of sounds hinting at the location of walls or other obstacles – he was grateful when Jeff's quiet voice announced they had reached their destination. He sank onto the bench, both hands still gripping the cane for balance, and leaned back against the smooth bark of the tree. After a moment, he took one hand from the cane and moved it to pat the bench next to him, indicating Jeffrey should sit as well. Instead of a wooden plank, though, his hand stopped a few inches above the bench, falling on a smooth, fabric-covered rectangle. His fingers explored the object and found paper around three edges. A book. "How did this get here?"

Jeff grabbed it from his hand. "Oh, no. I borrowed this from Mr. Anagnos this morning. I didn't get a chance to look at it." His voice was flat, almost uninterested. "I must have put it down when I was..." Abruptly, he stopped talking.

Now Bogg was sure something was wrong. There was too much hesitancy in Jeff's manner, and he'd never heard Jeff so unenthusiastic about a book before. "Kid, are you all right?"

"Fine," Jeff answered, a little too quickly. "I'd better get it back. Will you be okay?"

Bogg nodded, thinking it would be so much easier to figure out what was bothering Jeff if he could just see his face. _Maybe tomorrow_, he thought, his heartbeat quickening. "I'll wait here and rest up. Big day tomorrow." He listened as Jeff's footsteps receded, sighed, and leaned his head against the tree again.

He was aware of Anne's presence before she spoke – a lighter tread than Jeff's snapping a twig on the ground, the lavender scent that became stronger as she came closer, the air of excitement and mischief emanating from her. She seated herself on the bench beside him. "You made it down here, did you? And how many times did you fall?" she asked, suppressed laughter in her voice.

"Not once," he said in mock-indignation. "I had too good a teacher."

"A patient one, I suppose. You're a lucky man."

"Not really," he said, smiling. "She's a bit of a task-mistress, if you want the truth." He waited a moment before continuing "I suppose I should thank her for not giving up on me, though."

"Well, she did get you out of your room," Anne said. "And a good thing it is. A big, strapping man like you shouldn't spend all his time inside." Her voice took on a more serious one. "It's not good for you to..." She let out a breath. "Wait, I didn't come to lecture. Or tease. You've probably had enough of that from me to last you awhile. I came to wish you luck tomorrow. Dr. Robinson is a good man, a good doctor. I hope he finds you healed."

Bogg felt his jaw tighten. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and felt the bench shift as her weight came off it. "So do I," he said to himself. "So do I."

Anne put a hand on his arm, and he marveled again at the strength he felt in her slender fingers. She squeezed his arm once, then let go. "In truth, it's probably me who should be thanking you, Mr. Bogg." She paused. "I've been talking to Mr. Anagnos about a position down south. A family with a child who needs help."

"He mentioned something about it to Jeff, but I thought you wanted to teach here?"

"I thought so, too until you showed me how much in need of a challenge I was. As much as I love this school, I think I may need this position more." She paused. "Besides, after you, how difficult can a child be?" Her tone was arch, and Bogg could feel the smile she was trying to hide.

"Piece of cake," he said, a grin forming on his face. "You'll be great." Then he grew serious. "She'll be lucky to have you, Anne."

"If I choose to go. It'll be a hard choice. This is my home." He heard her start walking back toward the building, then stop suddenly. "Mr. Bogg?" She spoke to him without turning around and her voice echoed slightly off the walls of the school. "Good luck tomorrow." Then she was gone.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

After returning the book, Jeff walked slowly away from Anagnos' study, not yet ready to replace his memories of being in the garden with Sarah with new ones of being there with Bogg. He wandered aimlessly down hallways surprised at how quiet they were. _Think, Jones, it's Saturday night. They're not going to be in class now_. He wondered what the students did in their free time, and realized with a pang he had no idea what that would be_. It's not like I have a lot of experience in that area_, he thought.

As he turned down yet another hall, he heard a clacking sound echo off the walls. Curious, he followed the noise, looking in each classroom until he found the source of the sound and gasping in surprise at his discovery. Sarah sat at an old-fashioned typewriter, her hair in a braid that was coming loose around her face, her fingers moving steadily across the keys, her brow furrowed in concentration. She looked so beautiful, it took his breath away. More than anything, he wanted to go in and talk to her, to hold her hand again and tell her how he felt, to hear her voice one more time, but he couldn't make his feet move. It wouldn't be fair; they were leaving tomorrow. He stood watching for a moment as she worked, then swallowed once, and turned away. It was time to go find his partner. It was time to go back to work.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Bogg slept more than he thought he would that night and woke the next morning feeling strangely calm. _A few more hours_, he thought, _then we'll know for sure._ Even though the light was still blinking red, he'd had Jeffrey set the omni for headquarters so they could leave right after the visit to the doctor's office, regardless of the outcome.

At a little past eleven, there was a knock from the hall. "Mr. Bogg, are you ready?" Mr. Anagnos stood in the doorway.

Bogg grasped the cane in his right hand and walked steadily across the room. "Yes, sir, I am. Jeff?" The teen had been quiet all morning. Lost in his own thoughts, Bogg hadn't pushed him to talk.

"Coming." Jeff sounded tired. Bogg got the feeling the teen hadn't gotten much sleep.

"Are you sure?" the school director asked. "You are welcome to wait here until we return."

"No," Jeff's voice was firm. "I need to be there."

The ride to the doctor's house felt much different to Bogg than the ride to the school had just a few days before. The streetcar's jostling motion still upset his balance, but now the swaying of the carriage let him know which way the car was turning on the busy streets. The clanging bell didn't pierce his eardrums, and he could distinguish the voice of the conductor from those of the passengers. Once they disembarked, he found that while the cane made navigating the streets easier, he was glad Anagnos was there to help him find his way into Dr. Robinson's house. Anagnos had explained that while the doctor worked at Boston Eye and Ear, he also had his own private practice located in his home. "People come from across the country to consult with him. He's one of the best. You will be in very good hands, Mr. Bogg."

Once inside, the doctor asked Bogg how he had been injured. "You'll need to ask Jeff about the details," he said. "I don't remember exactly what happened."

The doctor turned to Jeff who gave a sparse description of the stove, the soot, and Bogg's injury as he understood it, staying away from details such as where the injury had occurred and under what circumstances. "The doctor we saw said he didn't know if Bogg's eyes were damaged. The burns..."

"I understand, young man." Robinson's voice was a light tenor. He gave off an air of being competent, compassionate, and knowledgeable. "With your permission, sir, I'd like to examine you now."

"Of course," Bogg said. "What do you need me to do?"

He heard the scraping of a chair's legs across the floor, then fabric moving as curtains were drawn over the windows in the room. An unfamiliar hand gripped his arm, surprisingly large given the man's light voice. "If you will just sit here, Mr. Bogg." He was guided to the chair. As he sat, the doctor explained what was about to happen. "I need you to stay as still as you can. First, I'm going to remove the bandages and examine the skin around your eyes. Next, the gauze will come off. I'll need you to keep your eyes closed so I can see if your eyelids were damaged." Bogg felt faintly nauseated as he considered what the skin under the bandages might look like. "Then I'll ask you to open your eyes, and we'll see what happens." He paused for a moment. "Do you understand?"

Bogg swallowed and nodded. "Yes." He heard Jeff gulp and turned towards the sound. "Kid, maybe you should wait..."

"Don't even finish that sentence." Jeff's voice was low and fierce. "No way I'm leaving."

Bogg's lips formed a half-smile. "Didn't think you would, but I wanted to give you the option." He turned back to the doctor. "Okay, doc. I'm ready."

He hadn't realized how much cloth had been used to wrap his eyes. _I must look like a mummy from the nose up_, he thought. After what felt like a very long time, he felt gentle fingertips probing the sides of his face. He sucked in a breath through his teeth as the doctor's hands brushed the burns on his temples. _Bat's breath. Those definitely feel worse than the ones on my hand did._ He heard Jeff make a strangled sound. "Is is that bad?"

"I have seen worse, Mr. Bogg," the doctor's voice said very close to his ear. "I think your son is more concerned about the location of the burns than their intensity." A cooling ointment was smoothed on Bogg's forehead and cheekbones. "This should help. Now, I'm going to remove the gauze. I know this will be difficult, but, please, keep your eyes closed until I ask you to open them. I need to do a visual examination of the skin around them first."

He knew the moment the gauze was gone. He could feel tiny fabric fibers getting caught in his eyelashes as Dr. Robinson lifted them away, then air suddenly moving past his eyes, cooling them and getting into his tear ducts. There was more gentle poking and prodding, more ointment being gently rubbed onto his eyelids, then a single word: "Now."

Bogg took a deep breath, then slowly started to open his eyes. He felt his lids flutter as he struggled to separate his tangled lashes without rubbing them. Light stabbed its way into his brain. _I heard them draw the curtains,_ he thought, squinting from the pain the light caused. Slowly, he managed to get his eyes open enough that he should be able to distinguish objects. He blinked repeatedly, trying to force his eyes to focus on something – anything – his heart sinking as he realized he couldn't. The light was too bright. All he could see was a shining haze. His lips pressed into a hard line.

"Bogg?" Jeff's voice was a worried whisper.

Automatically, he turned his head towards Jeff. Somewhere in the bright blur he could just make out two dark spots. He blinked again, and slowly Jeff's face came into focus, his skin pale with fear under its end of summer tan, his dark eyes standing out in stark contrast, dark circles evident under them. Bogg stared at him for a long moment, realizing with wonder exactly what he was seeing, then the muscles in his face relaxed in relief. He smiled. "You need to get more sleep, kid. You look terrible."

Understanding flooded Jeff's face, and Bogg saw those dark eyes widen. "You can see." Bogg nodded and had just a second to brace himself before Jeff launched himself out of his chair, wrapping his arms around Bogg's shoulders. "I was so scared. When you didn't say anything, I thought... I was remembering the tent, you were just lying there, and then we got here, and..."

Bogg patted his head gently. "I know, son. I know. It's all right now. Everything's all right." From the corner of his eye, he saw Anagnos pull at the doctor's sleeve, and the two men quietly left the room, closing the door behind them. Once they were alone, he moved Jeff to arm's length so he could look at him more closely. There was something in the boy's eyes, an emotion he was intimately familiar with, but had never seen in Jeff. Until now. Suddenly he knew the cause of Jeff's somewhat odd behavior over the last day. "What's her name?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Jeff flushed.

"I know that look." Bogg smiled gently. "I've worn that look. More times than I care to remember. She must be special."

Jeff nodded. "Sarah. Her name's Sarah."

Bogg nodded back at him. "When you're ready to talk about her, I'd be happy to listen."

"I'd like that." Jeff took a deep breath and ran a hand over his eyes.

"Do you still have the omni?"

"Of course. Do you want it back now?" Jeff pulled the device from his pocket. "I still think we should hit headquarters. Let the doctors there check you..." There was a faint chime as he opened it. Jeff stared down at the face. " It's green."

"Anne decided to take the job. Good." Bogg let out a breath. "Why don't you hold onto it for now. I agree with you about headquarters, but there's a stop I'd like to make first." He explained to Jeff where he wanted to go and watched as the teen set the omni. "All set?"

"I think so. It'll get us close." Jeff put a hand on Bogg's arm and activated the device. They disappeared.


	9. Commencement

Cambridge, MA 1904

"Are you sure we're in the right place?"

"Yes." Jeff had to work at keeping his voice from showing his exasperation. He took a breath and started again. "I checked with some of the students – one o'clock, Sanders Theater auditorium. We're early. I thought it would be better if we were here_ before_ everything started."

Bogg rubbed absently at his forehead. "I know. I'm sorry. I just..."

"I know." Underneath his concern, Jeff did understand why Bogg had wanted to witness this particular historical event. He just wished they'd gone to headquarters first. There were still too many things that could go wrong – Bogg's healing process, the omni. He would have felt better if they had come back after Bogg had gotten checked out. He sighed. "I get it, Bogg. You brought me to watch Lindbergh land. I guess the only part I don't get is why Helen Keller's graduation rather than when Anne first got through to her?"

Bogg's gaze shifted from Jeff to the stage below them, and Jeff suddenly remembered Sarah's face turning from his as she told him about her riding accident. He could hear her voice in his ears. He closed his eyes for a moment, then wrenched his mind back to what Bogg was saying. "... too close to home right now, kid." The man let out a breath. "Besides, you were the one who told me Helen was the first deaf-blind person to graduate college. I thought you might want to see it, too."

Jeff nodded, turning to grasp the railing in front of him. He wondered if Sarah had gotten the opportunity to go to college as well, or if she had needed to go back to her family after her schooling was done. A noise from the theater's main floor brought his mind back to the present. He tapped Bogg lightly on the shoulder. "We should find seats. We're probably safe up here in the balcony."

"Why do we have to be so far back?" Bogg asked, squinting to make out the stage.

"This is the biggest graduating class Radcliffe has ever had. Ninety something people. Technically, we shouldn't even be here. Besides," he pointed at Bogg's clothes," we _do_ sort of stand out, you know." Bogg huffed disdainfully, and Jeff couldn't help smiling. "You know, someday, that vest is going to split in two, and you'll need to find something else to wear. Maybe, when that happens, we can find you something less conspicuous."

"I haven't had to yet, smart guy." Bogg glared at Jeff, but dutifully moved into a shadowed section of seats.

"'Yet' being the operative word," Jeff retorted. "It'll happen. And I'll be waiting."

Almost an hour later, the auditorium was filled with graduates and their families. A hush blanketed the theater when a man in his late forties stood on the stage with a woman who looked to be in her eighties. The man cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, good afternoon. I am LeBaron Russell Higgs, President of Radcliffe College." He indicated the woman standing next to him. "On behalf of myself and Honorary President Elizabeth Cabot Agassiz, I would like to welcome you to the commencement ceremony for the class of 1904."

Under cover of the polite applause, Bogg leaned over to Jeff. "Where are they?"

Jeff scanned the front rows of seats. "Give me a minute. It's a little hard to tell. Everyone's wearing black." Finally, his eyes stopped on a pair of women, one in her twenties with a black graduation cap crowning a wealth of chestnut hair, the second in her thirties with dark hair and no cap. Anne had her left hand placed inside Helen's right one, her fingers moving subtly as she spelled out what the speakers were saying. He poked Bogg gently in the ribs. "There," he whispered, pointing to the pair.

Bogg leaned forward, and Jeff could see his knuckles turning white where his hands grasped the railing. "I can't see them." Jeff sucked in a breath, and Bogg turned to reassure him. "I'm fine. "I'm just getting used to using them again. And it's dark in here.

Jeff nodded. "Maybe when they're on stage."

"Maybe," Bogg grunted, his voice sounding strained.

The ceremony continued – prayers, speeches, readings – until President Higgs asked the graduates to rise. As he read each woman's name, she walked down the row of seats, climbed the stairs to the stage, and took her diploma with a handshake from the man and a hug from the woman. Jeff could feel the tension rolling off his partner's body, and shook his head, puzzled.

"Miss Helen Keller." The silence in the auditorium grew even more profound. The two women rose and climbed the stairs together.

Jeff heard Bogg's sharp intake of breath. "She's beautiful," Bogg breathed.

"Yeah," Jeff agreed. "People always said Helen Keller was a beautiful woman."

"Who?" Bogg was leaning forward, staring intently at the stage, his eyes trained on Anne Sullivan.

Jeff's eyes widened in realization. "You never saw her, did you?"

Bogg shook his head. "Didn't need to. What she looked like didn't matter. It was what she accomplished that mattered." They watched as Anne guided Helen to the front of the stage where a diploma was placed in the younger woman's hand. Bogg stood and started clapping. Within seconds, the entire auditorium was on its feet, applauding. Anne grabbed Helen's free hand and spelled into something into it. Then they turned and gracefully descended the stairs to go back to their seats. Bogg muttered something Jeff couldn't hear, then said, "Okay, kid, I'm done. Let's go."

Jeff was unsurprised to see Bogg's eyes glistening in the dim light. He squeezed his partner's shoulder and started walking down the aisle of seats. Once outside, he turned to the older man. "I missed what you said back there."

Bogg shook his head. "Anne should have gotten a diploma, too. From what you've told me, Helen never would have learned everything without Anne reading it to her." He sighed. "Anyway, I've been thinking."

Jeff regarded him warily. "About?"

"Hawaii. We never got that vacation I promised you."

"No." Jeff crossed his arms over his chest. "Headquarters. You just got those bandages off, and we still don't know if the omni's working right."

"It got us here, didn't it?" Bogg's voice sounded defensive. "I was just thinking a little R and R, wouldn't be a bad thing. I feel like I've been through the ringer, and some time on a nice, quiet beach sounded like a good idea."

Jeff sighed. He had been wanting to go back to Hawaii for a while now. He got the feeling he was being had. "Two days. That's it, and I hold onto the omni. After we rest, we go to headquarters to get you checked out."

"Come on, kid, don't you trust me?" Bogg put on a disappointed face.

"I know you." He put his hand out. "Hand it over." Bogg sighed, placed the omni in the teen's open palm, and watched as he set it. "Here we go," Jeff said. He placed a hand on Bogg's arm and activated the device.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

They landed in a darkened room. Jeff groaned and flipped open the omni's cover. "This is _not _ Hawaii" The device's dial was dark, neither indicator light was on, and the dials still showed their last location. "Great. Any idea where we are?"

Bogg was standing examining the walls of the room. "It looks familiar, but..."

"As well it should," said a voice from the shadows. A light switch was thrown, and Jeff blinked in the sudden brightness, trying to adjust his eyes to the change in light levels. The man standing in the room was a complete stranger. He was a few years younger than Bogg with straight dark hair, gray eyes, and a nose that looked as though it had been broken once or twice over the course of his life. He wore the khaki-colored dress uniform of a British army officer from World War II with a silver omni clipped to the belt and was looking down at a clipboard he held in his hands. "Voyager Bogg and Voyager-elect Jones, yes?" His clipped and polished upper-class British accent didn't mesh with the broken nose, and Jeff found his curiosity peaked. The man obviously knew who they were. "Quite a merry chase you lads have led us on, but we've got you back now, and since it's been five years since your last visit..." He looked up from the clipboard. "Good lord, man, what happened to you? We need to get you to Voyager Medical immediately."

Bogg tightened into a defensive posture and put himself between the man and Jeffrey. "And who exactly are you?" Given what had happened at their last visit to headquarters, Jeffrey wasn't entirely surprised at Bogg's hostile reaction.

The soldier grimaced out a smile. "Of course, I was after your time, and as you haven't chosen to grace us with your presence since your trial..." He held out a hand that Bogg ignored. "Voyager Oliver Mayhew. Class of '05." He cocked his head to the side and lowered his hand, obviously unsurprised at Bogg's reaction. "Quite. Councilor Garth mentioned you might not be happy to be back."

Jeff saw Bogg relax slightly at the mention of Garth's name and stepped forward. "Is something wrong?"

Mayhew raised an eyebrow at him. "Not exactly wrong, my dear boy. Just overdue." Jeff looked at Bogg, not understanding. "I can see how this might have slipped your mind, Voyager Bogg, given that you travel without a guidebook."

"Hey!" Jeff protested.

"No offense intended, Master Jones. It's simply that there is more in a Voyager's guidebook than history." He tapped the clipboard with finger. "There are other things as well."

Bogg sighed. "We've been doing just fine without those 'other things,'

Mayhew stared pointedly at the burns on Bogg's face. "Yes, I can see that," he said, in a bland tone. "Quite well indeed."

Jeff stepped up again so he was now standing next to Bogg. "What other things?"

"Immunizations and doctor's visits, omni maintenance." Mayhew moved his eyes from Bogg to Jeff. "Psychological testing. Things."

"We don't need them." Bogg's voice had an edge of anger in it. "We're fine."

Mayhew pulled a face. "Councilor Garth disagrees with you, my good man, and I'm simply his lackey. He's ordered me to evaluate you both, so evaluate you I will." He gestured with one hand towards a door behind him. "So, until he sees fit to reactivate your omni, we're going to be spending a bit of time together. First I think we need to get you to the doctor, then perhaps we can get some tea. I don't know about you, but I'm perishing of thirst." He headed towards the door. "Welcome home, Voyage Bogg. We're glad to have you back."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Chapter notes:

Chapter one: The description of the Keller Homestead is taken from Helen Keller autobiography, _The Story of My Life, _as is Martha, who Helen describes as her playmate and accomplice. According to Dorothy Hermann's biography, _Helen Keller: A Life_, Kate Adams Keller, grew and cared for the roses that scented the property. Captain Keller did in fact bring Helen to doctors all over the south, including Alexander Graham Bell, who was the person who suggested writing to the Perkins School.

Chapter two: While I couldn't find any evidence indicating Ted Williams was in Hwacheon, he did in fact have respiratory problems that resulted in his discharge from the military in 1953. Thanks to my father – possibly, the world's biggest Ted Williams fan – for getting me a definitive answer as to what the ball player's rank was in 1953. I checked five different resources and got five different answers before calling my dad. I should have saved myself the trouble... Also kudos to magentamom for catching the homage to my favorite episode of M*A*S*H.

Chapter three: It took a while, but I using a handful of Korean Veteran websites, I was able to verify the 8076th was in fact in Hwacheon in January 1953. There are some great photos published by the son of one of the unit's doctors that really give you a feel for the place: 45thsurg dot freeservers dot com/8076th_MASH dot html.

Chapter four: The Swan Boats at Boston Common have been running since 1877. The bridge is pretty much exactly where I have written it in the story. If you haven't been there, it's a nice place to spend an afternoon.

Chapter five: While the Perkins School is now located on a large and beautiful campus in Watertown, MA, it was originally located in several rooms of the home of founder Samuel Gridley Howe's father. After that it moved to the home of Thomas Perkins, who – when the school's population outgrew the house – sold it and used the proceeds to buy a hotel in Boston where the school relocated. It moved to its present location in 1912.

Chapter six: Anne Sullivan Macy spent many years living in the poorhouse at Tewskbury after the death of her mother and being abandoned by her father; her beloved younger brother, Jimmie died there. At the age of fourteen she got for herself the opportunity to attend the Perkins school.

Chapter seven: Twain's _Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_ was first published in January 1885.

Chapter eight: According to Micheal A. Hudson, Director of Museum of the American Printing House for the Blind, early typewriters were used quickly adopted and taught in blind schools.

Chapter Nine: According to Hermann's biography, Helen received a standing ovation when she received her bachelor's degree from Radcliffe College. Helen Keller graduated cum laude. Elizabeth Cabot Agassiz was the first president of Radcliffe, followed by LeBaron Russell Higgs.

Thanks to all who read and, as always, special thanks to those who reviewed!


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